Pucked Together

A Brother’s Best Friend Hockey Romance

Anne Martin

Copyright © 2024 Anne Martin

Cover Design by GetCovers.

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without prior written permission from the publisher.

The book is a work of fiction. The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarities to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

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Prologue

Izzy

Iwant to wipe that stupid look right off his stupid face.

"Izzy, it's not what it looks like," his pants are still unbuckled as he chases me down the hall of my shared LA apartment.

I turn to him, shoving a finger into his face.

"Really, Trevor. That's rich. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to know what was just going on in my bedroom," I throw the nearest thing I can find at him to stop him from following me.

A pillow. I find my fiancé cheating on me, and I throw a fucking pillow?

"Ow, Iz. Calm down."

I can actually feel the fire burning from the pit of my stomach and climbing all the way up until smoke billows out my ears.

I turn to give him the full heat of my glare.

"Shit, that's not what I..."

"Calm DOWN,” I scream. “You want me to CALM DOWN?!"

Deep breaths. Breathe, Izzy. Breathe. This is it. I remind myself. This is my way out. We weren't good together. Now, keep the air in my lungs.

I hear the footsteps of my roommate running across the hall to her room, trying to quietly shut the door.

That little--UGH!

Shhhh. Breathe. Breathe. Remember to breathe.

"Izzy, Baby. You need your inhaler," Trevor's voice is soft and worried.

But it's too late. The fire has worked its way into my lungs. And I can't breathe.

I grasp my chest, clawing at it. Gasping, the words barely make it out of me. "I'm not...you're fucking...baby!" The air comes in and out in short, uncontrollable bursts, and I drop to my knees on the floor.

"Fuck! Trish, where's her inhaler?!"

He crouches to lay me down on the ground, putting the pillow I threw at him under my head.

"Izzy, close your eyes and breathe like this." He tries to coach me and I slap him away.

"I can't find it, Trevor!" Trish's voice calls from the other room in a panic.

"Well, call 9-1-1. We need a fucking ambulance."

I need to tell him to leave. I need to tell him he and his whore can go straight to—

"9-1-1, what is your emergency?"

"It's my girlfriend. She has severe asthma, and she can't breathe. I can't find her rescue inhaler. Please, send help now."

I gasp—mainly from the audacity that he just called me his girlfriend when he knows we're supposed to get married.

I reach over my body and grab my other hand. It feels like a block of cement. My fingers are cramping, and the room around me is spinning. But I'm able to get it loose. I try to speak, but the words feel like fuzz on my lips.

"The address is 804 Landfair Av..."

His voice is fading. But with the last of my energy, I take the ring into my hand and throw it at his face before I collapse.

Chapter 1

Izzy

"This is a mistake," I whisper to Wednesday in the passenger seat as I roll the window down to type in the code Keelan sent me.

The little black poodle mix stays snoring, curled up in a ball and ignoring me, just like she has the majority of this cross-country trek.

It's been two full days of driving with an overnight rest stop in a questionable town on the border of Texas and New Mexico.

I could've taken Keelan up on his offer to fly first class and have my things picked up. But my brother has helped me enough. And I am a grown-ass woman, dammit. I can figure things out on my own, thank you very much.

Well, everything except my current living situation, apparently.

Great. And now the stupid keypad isn't working.

"You'd think this uppity HOA would at least come with a working keypad."

Just as I'm trying for the third time, a sleek orange space-shuttle-of-a-vehicle swerves off the main road and stops abruptly behind me. I can feel the idling engine deep in my chest.

The driver must have the patience of an ant because he almost instantly revs the engine when he sees I'm not going anywhere. It sends adrenaline coursing through my veins in a near panic.

"Hold your horses," I yell back and whisper under my breath, "Jackass."

I try the code again with no luck.

The driver behind me grows more impatient and blasts his horn.

I shove my head out the window to get a good look at him. It's a man, of course.

His face is covered by aviators too big for his face, and he's drumming his fingers against the steering wheel in front of him as if I'm wasting his precious time. The indie rock blasting from his speakers sounds just as obnoxious as he looks.

I sign for him to wait and dial Keelan.

"You here?" he asks.

"Yeah, but the stupid code isn't working."

Baby Driver behind me blasts his horn again.

Good lord. Could this guy be any more of a dick?

"Freakin' Houstonites," I mutter. Wednesday finally grows restless and joins me in staring down the guy from her spot on the center console.

"We're called Houstonians," Keelan corrects me.

Is he serious right now?

“Just get me through, Kee."

He laughs through the phone, "Hold on, I'll get someone to help."

"Can't you just buzz me i—" But I can't finish my sentence because he's gone.

I look at my phone, wondering how the hell I'm going to make it through the next few weeks living with my older brother and his rowdy teammates when I can't even get through the front gate of his neighborhood.

I peer at Mr. Douchebag through the rearview mirror.

By the looks of him, his daddy must be some old money oil tycoon, and he's never known a day of hard work in his life.

He rolls his head and revs his engine again.

This causes Wednesday to unleash her "I don't like you" stance, and she lets out a growl in his direction.

If I'm a whimsical pink fairy, Wednesday is my dark alter ego. And she's about to let him know exactly what she thinks of him.

"Hold on, girl. Keelan's coming for us. I just gotta let this asshole pass."

I call Keelan again, and it goes to voicemail. "Where the hell is he?" I ask as I look around for any signs of help on the way.

Baby Driver's music behind me is replaced by the sound of somebody on his Bluetooth speaker.

Then suddenly, the gates open, and I feel like Moses when the Red Sea was parted.

Well, maybe that's a bit dramatic.

But I've been driving for two days straight, my dog has to pee, and I'm pretty sure my car was about to call it quits just outside of Austin three hours ago. My brain sure did, anyway.

"Finally," I whisper, taking the car out of park and inching through the opening gate as soon as I can squeeze between the two sides.

According to the GPS, I'm still five minutes from Keelan's house. Which means he must live deep in the heart of this Stepford-doppelganger of a neighborhood.

The street leading into the neighborhood is lined with trees that look like they each have a personal groomer on staff. The houses are on over an acre of land each.

"Wednesday...we're not in Cali anymore."

She huffs in agreement and turns to look out her window at a woman wearing her hair in a high pony, pushing a stroller. The woman is chatting with her friend, who's power-walking beside her. It’s the big husky at her side that Wednesday is focused on.

Poor husky has got to be melting. Though even he's too posh to show it with his nose held up high.

It's late September, and it feels like fall has decided to be fashionably late around here. Even so, everything and everyone is so polished.

Well, everyone but the asshole with the expensive car who is still behind me.

Please turn. Please turn.

He's right on my tail. Ever the obnoxious jerk his car screams that he is, by the third turn, I'm convinced of it.

Why on Earth is he following me?

I decide at this point that he's just an asshole and needs to be taught a lesson. Plus, I don't particularly care if he rear-ends my shitty car.

I look over at Wednesday, who can clearly read my mind because she squints and gives a terse nod as if willing me to do it. Okay, I might've just imagined it because what dog actually reads minds, much less responds to thoughts?

But hell, I'm tired. And possibly delirious. So, I slam on the brakes. And either he has the quickest reflexes of any human I've ever met, or his spaceship-of-a-vehicle has braking sensors that stop him right before our cars connect.

He's staring at me through my rearview mirror, completely paralyzed for a moment as if deciding what to do next.

Wednesday and I flip him the bird before we start moving again. Correction, I flip him the bird. Wednesday definitely would if she could. Probably.

God, I need sleep.

Before I can start rolling again, my new friend decides to pull to my left side and races off in front of me, kicking up rocks that end up giving my windshield a nice makeover.

That'll cost some money. Money that I don't have right now.

His dumb music vanishes along with him.

"See? This is exactly why we should've just stayed in Los Angeles," I tell Wednesday for the hundredth time since we left on this road trip. "I thought Texans were supposed to be friendly."

Wednesday settles back into the passenger seat like she's over the drama. But not me. No, now I'm livid. I shake my head and cuss out the cowboy until we pull up to Keelan's white mansion of a house.

The fountain in the middle of the roundabout driveway prominently displays the symbol of my brother’s one true love—a giant hockey puck, and it looks to be on fire.

How my brother was able to get a fountain with both water and a fire feature is beyond me, but I guess there's not much that money can't buy.

I pull into the driveway, and lo and behold, who of all people do I find parked behind Keelan's yellow, state-of-the-art Bronco Raptor? I grip the steering wheel a little tighter. Of course, my welcome committee is the jerk from the gate who now owes me a new windshield.

Just great. He must be one of Keelan's guys.

I quickly dab on some gloss, fluff up my hair, and push my shoulders back before getting out of the car to confront him. Just as I exit my car, he pushes the door open to his.

Even with the small distance between us, I can tell he stands what feels like a full two feet tall above me. But that doesn't stop me from giving him a piece of my mind.

"Hey! You ever hear of manners, jackass?"

He assesses me before opening his mouth to speak. And when he does, he takes a bold step closer to me, towering above me and making my neck crane. I continue to shoot daggers at him regardless.

"Ever hear of moving with a purpose?" He retorts in a raw huskiness that sends my insides swirling.

"Excuse me?" I choke out.

"That's right, Cali-girl. 'Round here, you move fast, or you get lost."

Cali-girl?! Ok, I see what this is about.

Texans can't stand Californians stomping all over their sweltering state. Well, tough luck, asshole, because Cali is in the mother-fucking house.

He pushes his shades up onto his golden head, and hazel-green eyes dance over me as he looks me up and down.

Does he have to look like he just materialized from the pages of Greek mythology?

This isn't even fair. His muscles are bulging under his tight black shirt. He's pure mass, and it makes me even more annoyed that he thinks he can treat people like trash because he's so damn good-looking.

I refuse to give him the satisfaction of thinking I find him attractive. It's pretty obvious he’s a jerk. Instead, I mutter through my clenched jaw, "You owe me a new windshield."

He tips his head to the side and studies my '93 two-tone Bronco.

"Would you like a whole new ride to go with that, sweetheart?" His eyes come back to mine.

"No, my car works just fine. Obviously."

He's still looking at me with his head turned like a curious puppy. But when I don't say anything else, he just says, "Right. Well, just put it on my tab."

As if he plans to wreck more than just my car while he’s here.

He slips his glasses back over his eyes without another word, like arguing with me isn't worth his breath, and turns back to his car. Popping open the trunk, he takes out a suitcase and a medium-sized box that he tucks under a brawny arm.

"Please tell me you don't live here," I say to him, popping my hands to both my hips.

He presses a button, and the trunk slowly shuts. Then he digs in his pocket for something and looks at it before tossing it to me. I catch it easily and see that it's the clicker for the front gate.

"I don't live here," he replies, clearly mocking me.

He pulls his luggage behind him as he brushes past me and walks up to the massive black double doors. Just as he reaches them, Keelan pulls one of the doors open, sporting a huge smile. He's dressed in an open Hawaiian shirt and some board shorts.

You'd think my brother was a professional surfer, not the star center for the Houston Heatwave NHL team. A lucky trade on their part when they swiped him from the Stars a few years back.

"Well, if it isn't my newest housemates!" He exclaims.

Grumpy Pants stops just before getting to the door.

"Uh, what?" He says at the same time, I say, "He's what?"

"Ryker, this is my baby sister, Isabella Landry. Izzy, meet Ryker Balinger, our starting goalie."

We both stare at each other before he shakes his head and pushes past Keelan.

"Don't mind him," Keelan ignores his teammate's obvious rudeness and walks over to me.

"Kee, you have three guys living with you now? Isn't it going to be...I don't know, crowded in there?" I motion towards his ridiculous McMansion.

"No, sis. My house was built to house an entire team." He spreads his arms out, and I get a good look at the structure towering behind him. "There's space for all of you and then some."

It's as if the house from the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air mated with the White House and gave birth to a Texas-sized baby.

My eyes land back on his, and I just stand there, unmoving, hoping to God he doesn't have more people coming.

"But seriously, that's it," he laughs. "No more roommates. Not while you're here, at least."

He throws an arm over my shoulder, and I let out a breath of relief.

Hurricane Chancey hit the Texas Gulf Coast almost a week ago, and it displaced thousands of people. Many areas were evacuated, including the condos where most of the Heatwave players live near the Space City Arena.

I almost didn't come because of it, but Keelan insisted I was better off living with him than anywhere else right now.

"Don't get me wrong, it's nice and all that you're doing this. Not just for them but for me and Wednesday, too."

Keelan laughs a deep, hearty laugh and tugs me closer into a bear hug. "Some things can't be bought, sis. Besides, it gets lonely in this place with just the house manager, the maids, the chef...anyway, I'm glad you're here."

He breaks away and holds me by the shoulders to get a good look at me.

"Do you even hear yourself when you talk?" I shove his chest and go around to the passenger door to let Wednesday out.

"Not really. Ah, if it isn't my favorite niece," Keelan bends over as Wednesday takes a tentative step toward him. She sniffs his shoe, clears her nose, and pees.

Keelan jumps back, laughing, “Marking her territory?”

“That’s how she says hello to annoying men.” I grab my bags from the backseat.

"Duly noted. Well, come on, food just got here. I'll introduce you to the other guys."

Wednesday looks up at me and takes a seat. She’s just as hesitant as I am.

“Come on, girl. If they’re assholes…just get even and pee on their stuff.”

With that promise, we step inside.

Chapter 2

Ryker

"No way, man. Federin would totally beat out Mulligan. He's a freakin' beast in the net," Hicks shouts from the other side of the table.

The guys have been in a heated debate, making up their own versions of fantasy hockey based on players we all personally know.

Keelan is downing his second beer, and I can tell he's loving life at the moment. He's always been a people person. In college, he was the guy constantly surrounded by a group of people laughing and bickering. It's no wonder he's thriving right now.

I, on the other hand, am trying to figure out a way to get out of this little weekly routine the guys have going on.

Somehow Keelan’s sister has been able to evade his 'my house, my rules' roommate dinner tonight.

Apparently, there’s no set day of the week for when it occurs. But if you’re in the house, and he feels like gathering, you’re stuck participating. I plan to find as much to keep me busy outside of the house as I can.

Yesterday, Izzy passed out after meeting everyone and hasn't seemed to emerge from her room since.

As if she hears my thoughts, the feisty, dark-haired siren appears at the bottom of the stairs. She has her hair in a high ponytail, and she's wearing a crop top that reveals a little glint on her navel. She really should reconsider wearing those yoga pants in a house full of literal and figurative players.

Keelan follows my line of sight. When he clears his throat, I realize I've been staring.

"Izzy McGuire! Come join us. We've got pad Thai, red curry, spring rolls...and get this— some of it doesn't even have meat."

"Please don't call me that," she deadpans at her brother.

"Wait, you don't eat meat?" Fergie asks between sips of his soup.

"Nope," she answers. "It's disgusting the things they do to those poor animals."

All three guys glance down at their plates as if imagining the horrors their meals must've gone through to get here.

I pick up the last of my steak with my fork and pop it into my mouth. Guilt-free.

“Well, there’s plenty of non-once-breathing options,” Fergie says.

"And the seats empty next to me," Hicks adds, patting the vacant chair.

I look at the three of them beckoning her and refuse to join in.

She's going to learn the hard way that this isn't the place for her. They're on their best behavior right now. But I've seen these guys get wild. And she can't be more than what? Nineteen? Twenty years old? No, definitely not the place for a little thing like her. A house full of rowdy hockey players should send her packing her bags back to whatever hipster town she came from in a heartbeat.

I give her a week. Tops.

"What are you eating, Goalie-zilla?" She asks me, eyes searching my prepped meal sitting in the glass container in front of me. The only thing left is the disgusting Brussels sprouts my chef decided to surprise me with.

But now that I know she’s a vegan. I won’t be touching them on sheer principle. That and they are disgusting.

"Balinger's a total buzzkill," Keelan cuts in. "Always on his strict diet to stay in tip-top shape. Ain't that right, Balsy?" He reaches over and slaps me on the shoulder playfully.

“Ball-sy?” Izzy laughs, mostly to herself.

“It suits him. You should see him on the ice. Seems pretty ballsy to me,” Keelan says.

"Well, that’s because I don't fuck around like my cohorts at this table. I got one thing on my mind."

"First of all, jar," says Fergie, pointing at me. "Second of all, can we go one meal without you mentioning that dang cup?"

Michael Ferguson is the son of a well-known local pastor. His dad's only stipulation when he decided to play professional hockey instead of taking his place at the church was that he wouldn't embarrass him with sailor talk like the rest of us heathens.

Hence his other nickname.

"I might carry the team, but I don't carry cash for your fucking vacation fund, Preacher Boy." I grin, and the guys throw pieces of their food at me like we're in high school.

It's been five years since the Heatwave became an NHL expansion team. Keelan and I were both brought in that first year from our old team. Being a veteran player on the team can have you feeling the senioritis really quickly.

My usual life is pretty quiet these days. I live alone...typically. Between practices, gym sessions, rest, and recovery, I don't have much time for messing around with the guys. Not that I ever did. But these fools, they live like they'll be playing forever.

I know better.

There's an end game. And I'm nearing it. A thirty-two-year-old goalie doesn't have much time left, regardless of how good they might play. Which is why, yeah...I want that damn cup.

"And this is exactly why Coach suggested you come live with us after the storm hit,"

Fergie says, pieces of chicken flying from his mouth.

"You gotta let loose, Balsy," Hicks agrees.

His missing tooth from last week's practice is prominently displayed as he smiles my way.

Yeah, I'm sure it had nothing to do with me keeping an eye on the younger guys to make sure they stay on top of their game this season.

The previous owner of the Heatwave called it.

"In five years' time, we're winning that cup," he said with a tip of his Stetson to seal it.

He may be gone now, but the goal is still the same.

"You got hit by Chancey, too?" Izzy asks. Her eyes lost their intensity just slightly.

That damn look. I'd seen it growing up more times than I care to admit. I'd much rather see hate in her eyes than pity.

I shrug. "I would've preferred to stay at the Four Seasons downtown for a few more weeks, but your annoyingly persuasive brother got involved."

"Hmm...guess even rich assholes can't be spared from life's storms." She rolls her eyes and then looks at her brother. He's smiling like the Cheshire cat as he takes a swig of his beer.

"Sorry, Izzy, I know you're new here...but that's jar," says Fergie, motioning his head towards the jar on the kitchen island.

"You can add it to your goalie's tab. He already owes two of us, I see," she quirks her lips up.

"Ri-ight..." I stay silent and push around the Brussels sprouts left in my container. She's already decided she doesn't like me. So not saying anything to piss her off even more is probably my best bet.

I can feel Izzy's eyes on me, heating my skin, and I'd rather not look right into the eyes of Medusa if I can avoid it.

"Well, this is all very fun," Izzy says into the awkward silence.

She stoops down to pick up her fur ball of a dog. "But I need to take Wednesday for a walk before she decides to piss on all your gear. Not that I would mind if she peed on number thirty-three's things."

Yeah, she really doesn't like me.

"A roomie faux-paw," Hicks points at her with his fork. When she just stares at him, he adds, "Get it? Dog. Paw."

"It's not funny if you have to explain it, dumb—” he pauses, “butt," Keelan corrects himself, eyes on Fergie.

Izzy walks by Keelan, snatches a spring roll from his plate, and places it between her teeth like a cigar. "Have fun, boys."

She saunters off through the back doors with her little mutt in tow. Hicks and Fergie don't hide their gawking as she leaves, and Keelan gets serious for the first time all evening. He waits for the door to slide shut before he lets us have it.

"Listen up," he leans in, placing his elbows on the table, "in case I didn't make myself clear before, Izzy is a no-go. You hear me?" He looks each of us in the eye, one by one.

"We can't even look, man?" Hicks complains. "Have you seen your sister?"

"Ew, Hicks. No. And you especially can't look at her."

"Rude," Hicks says before biting into his chicken.

I can't help the scoff that escapes me.

Keelan turns to me. "You got something to say, B?"

I tilt my head. "Are you serious? You brought her here?"

"What's your beef with her, man?" Hicks asks.

"There's no beef," I shrug.

"If having her here is going to be a problem, you can tell me right now, B. Izzy needs me. She doesn't have anyone else. And she's been through enough, trust me. She needs to know there are good guys out there that aren't going to take advantage of her good nature."

He stares me down.

Good nature?

So far, I've seen a bratty college kid with a nice ass and siren eyes. But sure, we'll go with good nature.

"Nah, Kee. No problem at all, man." I stand and pick up what's left of my food. "I'm gonna shower and hit the hay."

"Ok, good," his shoulders lower as he calms down. "See you at practice," Keelan tilts his beer towards me, letting me know we're cool.

"You guys should probably…"

"Hydrate!" They all say in unison.

"Yes, we know, den mother," Fergie says, giving me a smug look.

"Oh, right. I'm the den mother. You're going to have us all singing hymns by the end of the season, Preacher Boy. But sure, I'm the den mother."

"Easy money," Fergie says, lifting his root beer to me with a wink.

I shake my head and make my way up the stairs, leaving the boys to their games and debates.

I hear Keelan say, "And would you cut it out with the punny lines, Hicks?"

"What? I'll get her to laugh one of these days." Hicks argues.

As I enter my bathroom, I strip off my clothes and turn on the shower. The hot water rains down on me, soothing my aching muscles from yesterday's practice. But even as I let out a content sigh, my mind wanders back to Izzy. There's something about Keelan's little sister that puts me on edge. Maybe it's her youth and naivety, or maybe it's the fact that she's living in a house full of horny hockey players.

She's feisty. I'll give her that. The way she confronted me outside the house earlier, like she isn't some puny little thing. Gotta hand it to her. She's got balls.

But by trying to protect his sister, Keelan put her in the midst of a lion's den. Whatever. That'll be his problem to deal with. As long as she doesn't get in the way, we'll be fine.

Just as the thought leaves my mind, I hear a cabinet shut, and I poke my head around the shower glass to see a round peach in yoga pants giving me a full view.

What the...

"Can I...help you?" I ask, shutting off the water and grabbing the towel near me.

My intruder bumps her head under the sink and rubs it as she turns to face me.

"Oh, hey! Sorry, I just really needed my makeup kit and..." The moment she sees me, the words stop.

"Uh huh?" I urge her to go on, securing the towel in place around my hips.

"Um, I...I didn't realize I'd be sharing a bathroom, and the door was unlocked."

I step onto the plush shower mat. "Your brother and his ingenious foresight. The rooms on the other side of the house are being renovated."

She bites her lower lip and then lets it go. It's subtle, but I see it.

"Ok, well, we're going to have to come up with a plan then because I can't have you walking around, you know...naked." She sweeps her hand up in my direction.

I raise an eyebrow. "Or you could always, I don't know, knock before entering?" I tilt my head.

She rolls her eyes. "I did. You're the one that left it unlocked for anyone to just waltz in."

I must've been too preoccupied to even hear her come in. We stare blankly at each other for a beat.

"We can work something out," I relent. If only just to get her out of my hair. She's beautiful, and this stupid towel can only cover so much.

"I get morning shower dibs," she says matter-of-factly.

"Then I'll take nights." I shower at the arena after each practice anyway.

"Deal," she nods and starts to back out of the bathroom. But before she's completely gone, she adds, "And for the record, I wasn't staring at your...you know."

I laugh. "Sure you weren't, sweetheart."

"Ew, sweetheart? What are you forty?"

"Damn near," I smirk at her.

Her eyes trail the length of my body, and I get the urge to 'accidentally' drop my towel to really give her something to look at. But I choose to keep things civil, at least for the sake of keeping my friendship with her brother intact. He most definitely wouldn't appreciate such an exchange under his roof.

She leaves with a huff, and I shut the door behind her.

"Little brat," I mumble to myself.

But I'm not alone in the bathroom.

The second I step back, I hear the yip of a little black lamb-looking thing under my feet, and I slip on the tile as I try to avoid smashing it.

Chapter 3

Izzy

Ihear the sharp yelp and realize I left Wednesday in the bathroom.

Shit.

The second I open the bathroom door, I instantly regret it.

There's Ryker Balinger in all his toned and erect glory.

"Oh my God!" I shoot my hands up to my eyes, but the damage is done. And that mental image is one I won't be forgetting anytime soon.

"Would you keep this thing on a leash?" He stands up, not realizing he's left his towel on the floor.

"Would you keep that thing covered up?" I yell back.

"Knock-knock. Everything okay in here—what the!" Keelan calls from behind me.

Of course, he'd walk in right at this very moment—impeccable timing by Keelan Landry.

"It's not what you think," Ryker says as he fails miserably to cover up.

"Come on, Wednesday girl," I beckon her over to me.

She whimpers as she limps in my direction.

"Did the big bad goalie hurt you, baby?" She curls up into my arms, and I give Ryker a death glare, to which he puts up his hands in surrender, forgetting he was using them to cover up. Then, he returns them to his crotch—throwing his head back in frustration.

I turn to look at Keelan. "A jack and jill bath, really?"

He scratches the back of his neck, "Uh, probably didn't think that through."

"We figured it out," I say, pushing past him to sit on my bed.

Keelan shuts the door behind him, giving Ryker some much-needed privacy.

"Listen, I know this is all kind of rushed and not really thought out." Keelan sits next to me on the bed. "But I'm here for you. And the guys know not to mess with you. But should I be worried about that?" He mumbles and motions towards the bathroom door.

I pet Wednesday and take a deep breath, "He's harmless." I say while doing my best to push aside thoughts of what I just saw.

"Yeah, he is," he admits. "But good news, you'll never be lonely," he gives me a half smile—his attempt at smoothing things over.

I give him a blank stare as a response.

"Look, if it makes you feel better, you can have my room. Ryker's my best friend. A major pain in the ass, but a damned good friend."

"I heard that," Ryker's muffled voice sounds off from the bathroom, and I can't help my eye roll.

"Like I said," Keelan says louder, "total pain in the ass."

"Don't worry about it. I won't make you give up your bachelor pad. You've done enough, Kee. Seriously."

And I mean it. Plus, I don't know what kind of organisms are crawling through Keelan's bed. He's not immune from bringing home a puck bunny or two. So, no, thank you.

But out of everyone I've had in my life, Keelan has always been my constant—acting more like a father than a brother at times. Between him and Aunt Ginny, who took me in when I was only six, they made me who I am.

He lowers his voice to a whisper, knowing that Ryker can hear him.

"How are you doing with the whole...ex thing."

I shrug holding Wednesday close to me and nuzzling her.

If Keelan is my constant human, Wednesday is my wicked emotional support animal.

"I mean, I still want to burn his place down."

"My little arsonist," Keelan says, shaking his head and petting Wednesday. He has a hint of pride as he says it, though. Wednesday flinches. Uncomfortable with anyone’s touch but my own, so he drops his hand.

"But...the feeling lessens every day. I guess."

"Progress," he smiles, and it touches his eyes. My brother is genuinely happy that I'm here.

"Well, you know what helps me get over an ex?" He continues.

"Chocolate cake?" I offer.

"What? No. That was one time," he laughs. "Though I’m not opposed to sharing a whole cake with you again. But no, girl. A good night out! Tomorrow's Friday. After practice, you're coming out with me and the guys. We'll show you what Houston has to offer. And trust me," he says, standing up and patting my leg, "LA's got nothing on us."

Before I even have a chance to protest and remind him I hail from the land of drunk celebs and broken dreams, he leaves the room and shuts the door behind me.

A good night out.

I haven't had one of those in a while. Not since...well, not since the last time I was out with the two people who left my heart for dead. The thought of them together sickens me, so I try to take my mind off of them by scrolling through social media.

Instant regret.

One of the first photos I see is our old crew from campus hanging out at one of our regular spots we'd go to after Trevor's home games. I had unfollowed both of them, but they're still hanging out with people I know.

UGH.

I throw my phone across the room so hard it crashes against the dresser and lands with a thud. I probably cracked it. And to be honest, I don't care.

Hot tears fill my eyes, and I'm mad at myself for still feeling anything for him. He doesn't deserve my pain. My tears. My frustration. And worse, I can't even talk to my best friend about it because she's gone too.

A double fucking whammy.

I grab the pillow next to me, pushing my face into it, and let out a muffled scream. Wednesday stirs beside me. I try to get a hold of my breath.

Breathe, Izzy, breathe.

There's a soft knock on the bathroom door, and I exhale and rush to clear the tears from my eyes.

"What?"

"Can I...open the door?" Ryker's voice hesitates on the other side.

"Are you going to say something smug or stupid?" I ask.

He hesitates again and then sternly says, "No."

"Fine, then."

The door clicks open, revealing a fully dressed Ryker, and the very sight of him stifles my breath again. He's not close enough, but he looks like he smells divine.

A god in a tight white shirt that does nothing to hide the bunched muscles of his neck and shoulders. And the joggers hanging on his waist are doing things to my body without my permission. The man is a beast. He looks like the kind of guy that other guys just cower from. He crosses his arms and leans on the door frame.

"I couldn't help but overhear you and your brother."

"Well, maybe you shouldn't," I offer. My tears turn to anger.

He only groans in response—a deep guttural sound.

"What?"

"How long were you together?"

I shake my head, not wanting to think about it and even less wanting to talk about it with the likes of him. But the look in his eyes has me feeling something unexpected.

What is this feeling? Safe?

He hasn't moved a muscle. His eyes are glued on me like I'm the only thing in the room.

"Two years," I finally give in. "We were engaged for two weeks when I..."

He shifts his weight onto his other foot and just waits.

"You know what, never mind. I'm not here to rehash history. I'm here for a fresh start." I breathe out, wanting to believe my own words.

He nods. "Takes about half the time you were with someone to get over them. Especially if it was serious."

His response comes as a surprise. The serious, sports-focused road-rager has some actual insight to offer.

"I didn't take you for a relationship expert, Goalie-zilla."

He huffs, and I notice he just makes animalistic noises when he doesn't want to say something.

I lean back and look at him. "Who broke your heart?"

He shrugs but doesn't offer up anything else.

I let out a heavy sigh. "Seems like it might be a rite of passage into adulthood. I can't help but feel like it was my fault."

He cinches his brows together. "Why would you say that?"

"I don't know. I've never been the sleep-around type." I admit. "And I didn't want to until I knew for sure...so we just never..."

I can't seem to get the words out. But it dawns on him what I'm trying to say. And the moment I realize it, I feel the heat build around my neck. If I could take it back, I would.

"You're a virgin." He says it with a hint of fascination. "How old are you?" He cocks his head to the side, looking absolutely intrigued like I’m some goddamn exotic animal.

"Don't mock me, Balsy." I use the name my brother does with him.

"Far from it. I just find that hard to believe. I mean, have you seen you?" He keeps his head cocked to the side.

It's an endearing trait of his that I'm picking up on. And I believe the grumpy giant just gave me his version of a compliment.

"I'm a twenty-one-year-old virgin. Sue me." I cover my face with my hands and wish we never would've started this conversation.

"Good for you," he says.

"What?" I drop my hands to see him kind of smiling at me.

"Seriously. Most guys are assholes. They don't deserve your intimacy if they can't even earn your trust."

I was not expecting that.

"Yeah, that's kind of how I've always seen it."

He swallows hard. But doesn't move.

"W-will you be going out with the guys tomorrow?" I ask, trying to change the subject. Immediately.

"No," he scoffs. "Don't let them fool you with their family dinners and censorship. They're as wild as they come."

"The old sage too old for good times?" Now I cock my head to the side.

He smirks, revealing a dimple on his left cheek. And I'm starting to get irritated by how stunning this man is.

"I have plans," he says, crossing his arms in front of his chest again.

I really want to know what plans a guy like Ryker has for a Friday night. But I won't push for now.

I shrug. "Well, if your plans change, you know where to find us."

"Yeah, don't count on it," he turns to return to his room but stops.

"You shouldn't be on that trash." He points to my phone, which is thrown on the floor with the social app still open.

"Thanks, boomer. But I think I'll be ok."

"Live your life in real-time. It's a nicer view."

"Are you telling me you don't get on social media?"

"I don't," he admits.

Once again, I'm taken aback by him.

"You're telling me that the starting goalie for an NHL hockey team doesn't have a social media presence?"

My ex played college-level and even he made sure to be on top of his social media game—always posting the epic photos I’d take of him during his games.

Ryker looks at me like I just spoke a foreign language. "I don't."

"Why? Isn't that how you guys get your big endorsement deals and stuff?"

"Maybe."

"So what? You don't play for the money? You play for the love of the game? Because the car you drive sure doesn't say that."

He's now fully turned around, and his eyes are raking across my room like he's trying to figure me out based on my belongings. They land on the DSLR camera Keelan gave me last Christmas.

"Is that yours?" He ignores my comment.

I look at the camera. "Maybe." I get up and walk over to my desk to pick it up and turn it on.

"You a photographer?"

"First, tell me why you're not on social media."

He leans against the wall next to the bathroom door and crosses his arms again. Those damn biceps bulge, and it takes everything in me not to recall him naked earlier.

Ew, Izzy. What is wrong with you? Stop being such a perv.

"Because, oh, little one. I find real life to be much more interesting." His eyes trail over me again. I can't help the feeling that he might be talking about me. "Besides, the world will only twist the things you give them access to."

There it is.

"You've been burned by the media."

"You can say that." His jaw clenches, and I can tell we're heading into uncomfortable territory for him.

"Ok, fair." I go to stand next to him and show him some of my most recent photographs. "And yes. I'm a photographer."

I stopped about twenty times just to capture some incredible settings I saw on my drive into Texas.

He leans his head over to see better, and I get a good whiff of him. Soap. The most deliciously clean and fresh scent that's ever tickled my nose. I hope he doesn't notice how deeply I just inhaled.

"These rock formations were in Joshua Tree." I show him a picture of Wednesday sitting on top of a rock with the sun behind her.

"These cacti were from a national wildlife reserve in Arizona." I keep flipping through, and my captive audience nods at each one. "That's a Gila monster." He lets out a breath through his nose in a laugh as he inspects the photo with Wednesday snarling at a giant lizard.

"She's feisty," he says. His voice has a hint of humor.

Wednesday lifts her head from where she is on the pillow like she knows we're talking about her.

A smile touches my lips—until I get to the next few photos. I quickly flip through the photos of the small Adobe church outside of Tucson.

Ryker studies my profile when he sees me skipping past them. I'm sure he wants to know why I'm not saying anything about these specific pictures.

"Anyways, you get the point," I say, dropping the camera down to my side and leaning my head against the wall.

He takes a deep breath, his chest rising and falling, and he leans his head back on my wall, too.

My body is suddenly fully aware that I'm alone in a room with what just might be the most insanely handsome man on earth. And my breathing becomes slightly erratic.

No, no, no. Not now.

I close my eyes and try to focus on filling my lungs with air. Instead, I find myself slowly gasping for breath.

Chapter 4

Ryker

"She has asthma?" I ask Keelan with my arms crossed. "Don't you think that's something we should all know?"

When Izzy started having what looked like a panic attack next to me yesterday, I moved without thinking. I put both hands on her face and ordered her to look at me and breathe.

I had no idea she was having a fucking asthma attack until she pushed past me and reached into her backpack, pulling out a small red inhaler. Her breathing went back to normal, and she immediately kicked me out of her room with no further explanation.

"Ever since she was little," Keelan says like it's nothing as he dumps sugar and cream into his coffee.

I stand up abruptly and put my dishes in the sink. I felt like such an idiot all night. Like I caused her to lose her shit. I couldn't even sleep.

Keelan walks to the stove and lifts the lids of the pans for the bacon, eggs, and potatoes. "Damn, what time did you get up to make all this?"

"It's amazing what you can get done when you're not hungover."

"Whatever. I barely drank," he says with a smirk. "Can't say the same about tonight, though.”

I just shake my head in response, fully aware it's Friday. And these guys like to pretend they're still in college.

"Hey, I wanted to talk to you." His tone is serious.

I stop the mug that's about to hit my lips. "What's up?"

"It's about the Izzy situation," he says. "I know you weren't expecting to share a bathroom with a college student, let alone babysit her through an asthma attack. That shouldn't be on you. She's my responsibility."

I don't say anything.

"It's just...if I'm being honest," he lowers his voice. "I don't trust Fergie and Hicks with her, man. She's been through some shit, and the last thing she needs are thirsty dudes after her for nothing but a good time."

I take in what he's trying to say.

"So you did it on purpose? You put us in the same space."

"Yeah, I kinda did," he sips his coffee with a smirk.

I get a slight tug of guilt in my gut at the thoughts I had of her last night when I was alone in my room, unable to sleep.

"Ry?" he drags me out of my thoughts. "Promise me something."

Shit. Shit. Shit.

He's going to ask me to do something I really don't want to do. I can feel it.

I look at my friend, who's had my back more times than I can count, and just concede.

"Go on."

He looks over his shoulder to make sure nobody can hear him. "If I'm not around, I need you to be my eyes and ears. Make sure she's not being bothered. Seriously, you have my permission to set 'em straight when it comes to my sister."

The fact that he thinks I'm not someone who would need to be set straight when it comes to his sister tells me a lot about how much he trusts me. Before I can give him an answer, a little black ball of fur comes bouncing into the kitchen.

Medusa's up.

"We'll finish this later," Keelan whispers before picking up the dog and taking it with him outside.

Kee's wearing a red silk robe and lion slippers and looks the full-on weirdo millionaire that he is. As soon as he shuts the glass door, a small figure is standing at the entrance to the kitchen, yawning and stretching, revealing that small hint of silver on her navel again.

I busy myself with my dishes and try to act like we weren't just talking about her.

She rolls her shoulders a bit and walks up to me. Her hair is in a messy bun on top of her head. She smells like peaches. Freshly showered. Just like we had agreed.

"Morning. Got coffee?" she asks like she didn't kick me out of her room last night, leaving me feeling like a total jackass.

I step aside to reveal the freshly brewed pot.

"What's all this? You guys feeding an army?"

"I...couldn't sleep."

She opens the cabinet above the coffee pot and sees the mugs are just out of reach. But instead of asking for help, she struggles on her tippy toes.

"Need some help there?"

"Nope, I got it," she strains as she attempts to hop and reach one of the mugs. Instead, she pushes it back even further.

"Ugh. I know you're all giants, but is there a reason why the mugs are so high up?"

I push off the counter and reach over her. Our bodies press slightly with the contact. The smell of peaches is strong, and all I want to do is lean in closer to inhale that scent.

She softly presses her backside into me. And I'm not sure it's an accident.

Her breath caught, and I realized if Keelan were to walk in right this very minute, this wouldn't be a good look—for either of us. I slowly back away, clearing my throat, and notice the redness creeping into her cheeks.

"Thanks," she breathes out.

I try to push past the thoughts of what it felt like to have her so close. "Help yourself to some breakfast."

She looks at the spread. "Damn, Balinger. What keeps you up at night?"

You, apparently.

Interrupting the small amount of time we have to ourselves, Hicks and Fergie shuffle in.

"Hey team, g'mornin'," says Fergie, sounding awfully chipper.

"Hey, sis," Hicks says playfully to Izzy.

"Morning. You guys got practice today, right?"

"We'll be at it all day, baby. You gonna come watch us play?" Hicks winks at her.

Fergie scrunches his nose.

Izzy leans back on the counter and takes a sip of her coffee. "Not if you ever call me baby again." There's no playfulness in the way she says it.

Hicks looks like he just got caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"Ha, right." He rubs the back of his neck uncomfortably.

"I'm nobody's baby," she clarifies. "But I'm especially not yours."

Medusa is out. And I wonder what Keelan was worried about to begin with. She knows how to handle herself.

"What's so funny, Balsy?" Keelan asks, strolling in from walking the fur ball.

Everyone in the kitchen turns to me, and I realize I'm smiling from watching the interaction.

Damn. Why is he always catching me looking at Izzy?

I need to wear my shades. Or...stop staring at his sister.

"Nothing," I push off the counter and make my way out of the kitchen. Izzy's eyes peer at me from over her coffee mug as I move past her. I can feel them on me until I leave the room.

"She's totally into me," Hicks says as he jumps the boards and makes his way onto the ice.

"What makes you think that?" Fergie asks, following behind him.

"Did you see the way she came at me this morning? Girls only banter like that with guys they like."

Fergie shakes his head, knowing he completely missed her warning. And I feel the sudden urge to break up this conversation. Keelan could walk up at any moment. But also, I don't particularly like them talking about her. It irks me for some reason.

"Sounds like you need to go back to Women 101. No means no, Hicks. Don't push it," I rush past him to find my place in front of the net.

He rolls his eyes. "I'll get her to dance with me tonight. You'll see."

He says it to Fergie, but I catch it as I skate by, and the jealousy that rolls through me at the thought of them dancing together surprises me.

Coach Murray blows his whistle from the side, joined by his assistant coaches.

"Listen up, Heatwave. The next few weeks are going to be grueling, as you well know. Let's get back in our groove and make sure we're working at peak levels. No goofing off. Everyone understand? The cup is ours this year. It's what we've been working for."

The team bursts into shouts and hoots.

"With that said, I want to introduce you all to your new team captain."

"Management's decided? I thought we were taking a vote?" Hicks huffs.

"We did take a vote, Hicks. You were conveniently preoccupied when the team submitted their votes last week, remember?" Coach interrupts him.

He had overslept. That's part of the reason he's at Keelan's halfway house for the Heatwave Bad Boys Club.

"Right," his shoulders slump as chuckles erupt around the ice.

"As I was saying," Coach continues. "Landry, come out here."

Keelan appears across the ice, his sweater now sporting a bold C on the left-hand side.

He skates out and holds up his stick, and we all take turns bumping him.

"It was an easy choice. He's got the team's best interest at heart constantly."

"Let's get this bread, boys!" Keelan shouts. And the energy on the ice is already up.

"That's right," says Coach. "Get on with your drills, Heatwave. Let's see what you can do."

In an instant, the team is all on the ice and in place. The puck is quickly played, and practice is in full swing. I'm too busy blocking practice shots from the guys to see when she walks into the arena.

But I feel the shift in the atmosphere, and my eyes rise to see Izzy in a fresh pair of yoga pants and a Heatwave-branded red and orange pullover.

Her long black hair is down and dancing around her back as she chats with our PR rep, Rina, on the second tier.

For the first time in a while, the team makes it past me, and they celebrate.

Fuck.

Keelan skates towards me. "Head in the game, B."

"Lucky shot, I'll get it next time. Hey, what's your sister doing here?"

He follows my line of sight to the seats.

"Huh, I guess she's taking my advice."

"What was that?"

He pulls his helmet down, "To apply for a job."

"Here?"

He skates around the net, "Yeah, man. That way, I can keep her close. It'll be great." He leaves and returns back to center ice. "Let's go, Heatwave!"

I look back up to Izzy, and her gaze meets mine before she quickly returns her focus back to Rina. Another puck flies by me and into the net, drawing my attention back to the ice. The guys on my side groan.

Yeah, that'll be just great.

Chapter 5

Izzy

Rina Lopez. The Rina Lopez is interviewing me.

She's well known in the sports world, which is why she's been hired on as the new Heatwave PR rep this season. She's earned her reputation across different leagues as the PR miracle worker.

"So what happened to Bobby?" I inquired about the last PR rep.

She laughs as she pulls her seat out and motions for me to sit in front of her desk.

"Let's just say he couldn't handle the heat." She winks. "You sure you're ready for professional sports? Don't get me wrong, your portfolio is impressive."

Wow. The fact that a legend like Rina thinks my photography is impressive, I could die happy right here, right now. I nod and smile, just speechless.

"I only ask because the hours are pretty demanding. And you'd have to travel with the team."

"I already live with half of them," I say with a chuckle.

She looks at me like something is coming out of my ears.

"I mean, I live with Keelan for the time being, and some of the guys are rooming there too."

"Oh, well, if all works out, we'll definitely be able to cover your accommodations."

I sit up straighter. Is she serious? A paid gig with guaranteed work and a place to live included? I owe Keelan big time.

"Look, Ms. Landry. I like you. I want to change things in the marketing department, and you're just the kind of fresh eyes I think this team needs. I want to bring you on for a 30-day trial. Come to all the games and practices. Home and away. And if, after a month, it works out. We'll bring you on full-time. How does that sound?"

How does that sound?

That sounds like a dream come true.

I try to keep my excitement at bay and respond with, "I think we can make that work."

"Great! You start tomorrow."

She stands and reaches for me to shake my hand. I smile and extend my hand to her.

"Word of advice, woman to woman?" she says.

"Of course. Please." Any advice she has, I'm all ears.

"Don't get involved with any of the players. It's not against policy or anything. It just tends to make things...complicated. Take it from someone who learned the hard way."

I nod, wondering what her story might be. But I'm not even close to feeling like I can ask.

"The team captain is your brother. I'm sure you'll be fine," she waves away any worries.

"Thanks so much for the opportunity, Ms. Lopez. I won't let you down."

"Please, call me Rina. And don't thank me. Your work speaks for itself. See you tomorrow. 10 am."

With that, she walks me to the door and waves me off. As soon as the door closes behind me, I turn and do a happy dance.

I just got hired. I'm the interim Heatwave team photographer.

I need someone to pinch me because this does not feel real. I have to be dreaming. I do another dance and completely miss the giant at the end of the hall leaning on the wall and watching me.

My hand shoots up to my heart from the fright. "Oh my—jeez, Balinger!"

He shakes his head and crosses his arms. "Do I want to know?" His gravelly voice sends instant shivers through me.

"How long have you been watching me, Goalie-zilla?"

"Long enough." He pushes off the wall and walks over to me.

I gulp as he gets closer. He leans over to look at the paper in my hands with my job title listed above it.

"Team Photographer?"

"Yes, why do you sound so surprised?"

"I don't know, I took you for more of a yoga instructor type," he motions towards my pants.

"Hardy-har, Balinger. No, I'm actually really good with motion photography."

He stands there, just looking at me.

"What?" I finally say.

"So you work here now?"

"Yes, well, temporarily, but yes."

He groans, sidestepping me, and starts walking down the hall.

I turn to him, totally annoyed. "What is your problem? I know you don't like me, but you can at least be civil with me."

He stops and walks back toward me, stopping just inches from my face.

"I don't have a problem, Sparky. In fact, I'm so ecstatic that you're here. Just over the fucking moon," he throws his arms up in the air.

"You're being sarcastic," I deadpan.

"Get used to it. Us hockey players are a sarcastic bunch."

"No, I know hockey players, " I step up to him and stretch onto my toes to meet him close. "My brother is one. I've dated one. I photograph them. It's you. You have an attitude problem, Goalie-zilla."

He glares down at me. His hands are at his sides, but they clench and unclench like I've struck a nerve. Good.

"Now, I work here. So you get used to it!"

I turn on my heel and head in the opposite direction without looking back. As I turn the corner, I catch a glimpse of him in my peripheral, still watching me.

I return to the arena and pull my camera case closer to my side. Ryker Balinger might be the most confusing person I've ever met. He seemed to be thawing his iciness towards me earlier today and last night. But now, he's back to frozen tundra mode.

I don't get it.

Keelan is coming off the ice just as I go down to where the team is gathered.

"Sizzler! Did'ya get it, girl?"

He pulls off his helmet and sets it on the bench.

I lift up my papers. "I got it!"

He smiles big and pumps his fist into the air. "Hear that, Houston? The Landrys are taking over!"

He high-fives me, and Hicks and Ferguson join him at the benches.

"Tonight, we celebrate. Izzy's the new team photographer." Keelan tells the guys.

"Way to go, Izzy!" Fergie gives me a fist bump.

"Drinks and dancing?" Hicks offers.

The three of them look at me with puppy dog eyes. "Okay, fine."

They all whoop.

"But just for tonight." I don't usually drink, but this definitely is a cause for celebration.

Balinger walks through the arena with his workout bag in tow.

"Yo, B," Keelan yells up at him. "Did you hear the good news?"

Ryker puts his cap on and tugs the bag closer to his body as he keeps walking like he didn't hear him.

What a jerk.

"He's not invited," I tell the guys.

"What's his problem?" Fergie asks.

"Eh, don't mind him," Keelan excuses him again. "Meet you back at home, Iz?"

I nod, and the guys head to the locker room excitedly.

I guess I'll need a new outfit for tonight. I walk out of the arena into the parking garage and reach into my bag for my car keys. Distracted, I hear someone say my name.

"Yes?" I turn around to see the last person I'd expect to see here.

"Hey, baby."

Chapter 6

Ryker

I'm getting into my car when I hear Keelan's sister say, "Get the hell out of my way, Trevor."

I open the door and look around to see a guy standing in front of her car door wearing a Heatwave jersey.

He has his hands up in front of himself, trying to calm her down.

"Please, Izzy. I promise you, I have the right intentions here."

"Oh, please. Just like you had the right intentions when you decided to bang my roommate on our anniversary. You're a fucking joke, Trevor. Move."

He puts his hands on both of her shoulders, and she jumps back, shaking him off. "That’s not what happened. And if you’d just listen to me, you’d know. Would you please just listen to me?"

"Hey!" The second the word leaves my lips, they both jolt. Izzy looks at me wildly, like she'd rather be anywhere else right now.

"She said move." Now I'm standing next to Izzy, staring down at him. Sincaid. Trevor fucking Sincaid is Izzy's ex?

He's the team's most recently drafted rookie. How would Izzy not know that?

The guy sizes me up and then looks back at Izzy.

"I see now. You want nothing to do with me because you've moved on. Wow. Really didn't take you long, did it?"

He dares sneer at her. I barely know him, and I can't stand him already.

"What the fuck is going on here, Sincaid?" I ask, bringing his attention back to me.

"Are you kidding me? How long have you been here?" Izzy demands.

I look over at Izzy, who looks like she's about to combust.

"I believe my girlfriend asked you a question,” I say in a threatening tone.

Now, both of them glare at me.

I put my arm around Izzy's shoulder and my other hand in my pocket, ignoring Izzy's laser stare and looking right at Trevor with my head tilted.

He looks at her, then back at me, then turns, shaking his head and muttering something as he gets into a blue pickup truck that seems too big for him and peels out of the garage.

"What the hell are you doing?" Izzy shifts her shoulders out of my hold.

"Trying to help you."

"Why?"

"I-I don't know."

She rubs a hand down her face.

"That's right. You don't know. You don't know anything about me. I just got the best news of my life. I don't need you or fucking Trevor or anyone else messing this up for me."

"Um, okay." I put both hands in my pockets, wondering why I'm not hearing a ‘Thank you for saving my ass in front of my cheating ex, Ryker' instead of getting a talking to like I'm a child.

"Now he's gonna tell everyone we're dating. I can't risk this job, Ryker."

"So tell him the truth."

"What? Are you kidding me? No, that's worse."

"Izzy," I sigh. "What do you want from me?"

"Nothing," She digs frantically into her purse. "I want for you to leave me the hell alone." She finds her keys, opens the car, and gets in with one fell swoop. "You, Trevor, anyone else that wants to kill my vibe. Just stay the hell away from me. Un-fucking-believable." She slams the car door and peels out, too, leaving me in a cloud of dust.

And feeling like a complete and utter idiot.

The voice on the other end chuckles.

"She sounds like a handful. Just tell her you like her, man."

I shut the door to my room after making sure nobody is lurking in the hallway. Izzy isn't home. Neither are the guys.

"What? I don't. She's a total brat."

"Yeah, so much of a brat that you can't even bring yourself to admit it," my brother teases.

"Rowan, seriously. I need to get outta here. This living situation isn't working out. Did they give you a date yet for your release?"

"No, but what you need to do is just make your move already."

My brother is impossible.

"You know I'm not going to do that,” I say.

"Because your best friend told you to protect her? So you pretend you're her boyfriend in front of her ex instead of punching the stupid guy."

"Row, this isn't the yard. We can't just solve things by punching or shanking the next person that pisses us off."

"Yeah, yeah. Sounds like I need to teach you a thing or two."

"And I already told you I don't like her," I continue.

"Great, then, can we please talk about anything else? You're the one that keeps bringing her up."

I think he's right. In the last few phone calls, I've mentioned her quite a bit. The woman is impossible to escape. I haven't even asked him about his day.

"Shit, how are you doing, brother?"

He sighs into the phone. "Same ole, same ole, little B."

I hold the phone tighter against my ear, missing having him near. Rowan's my only sibling. The big B to my little B. The Balinger brothers. Soon to be reunited again.

"I'll come visit soon.” I vow. “Our first preseason game is next week, and Coach has us practicing double time."

"Ryker, how many times do I have to tell you? Live your life. You know I'm super proud of you. Always will be, little B."

"Thanks."

I hate to think my brother hasn't seen me play a single professional game. I'm not getting any younger, and with rookies like Sincaid coming into the picture, a few of us veteran players will slowly be phasing out over the next few years.

I hear banging on his end, and someone yells, "That's time! Hang up!"

Rowan sighs again. "Laters, brother."

The line goes dead.

Ever since the storm hit, I haven't had a chance to visit Rowan, and I feel like the biggest asshole. It's thoughts of him. My mom. My broken family that usually keep me up at night.

I went into professional sports to try to make a name for ourselves—to change things for the better for us. But by the time I had my big break, everything had already gone to shit.

Too little, too late. Story of my freakin life.

I hear whimpering on the other side of the bathroom door. The fur ball must need to go out, and nobody else is home to take her. Great, now I'm forced to dog-sit against my will.

I stand up from the bed and walk to the bathroom door leading to Izzy's room. I see Wednesday sitting by the hallway door, still whimpering. She hasn't even noticed me.

"Hey, fur ball, you wanna go outside?"

She stays sitting and totally ignores me. Still staring at the door. Still whimpering.

"Earth to fluff."

Nothing.

"Wednesday!"

She finally stops and looks at me.

"Wow, ok. You only respond to your real name. Got it. Outside?" I hook my thumb towards the window.

It's then that I take in the state of Izzy's room. I look around and see clothes flung about and shoes piled outside the closet, and it looks like someone raided the drawers in a hurry.

"Did you do all this?" I ask the dog as if she can understand me.

She finally walks over to me and sits in front of my feet, staring up at me. Next to her is a blue and yellow jersey. I pick it up to see the classic lettering that says UCLA. When I turn it, Sincaid is sprawled across the back in bold letters.

Looks like seeing him today must’ve brought back some memories.

"Let me guess, it was your crazy mom." I throw the jersey back down. "I pegged her for more of a clean freak. Come on."

I reach down to pick up Wednesday, and she snaps at me.

"Hey! You're the one crying to be let out."

The dog snarls at me and looks back at the bedroom door with a whimper. Maybe she doesn't have to go out. Maybe she misses her psycho mom.

"Look, I don't know where she's at. But if she's with the other bozos, it might be a while."

The dog looks back at me and then gets up, walks past me through the bathroom, and into my room.

"Hey, where you going, fur ball?"

Wednesday jumps onto my bed, walks around in a few circles, and I think she's about to lay down when I hear the familiar sound of piss. Izzy's dog is peeing on my fucking pillow and looks me right in the eye as she does it.

"Mother f-ugh. That's it!" I point at her. I fish my phone from out of my pocket and dial Keelan.

He answers on the third ring, "EE-yello?"

"Where's your sister?" I grit out.

I hear the sound of pulsing club music in the background.

"What?" He yells back.

"I said, where's Izzy?"

"Izzy? She's with me. Why?"

"Her dog pissed on my bed."

"You want her in your bed?"

"No! I said, her dog pissed on my...you know what, never mind. I'll just text you."

I hang up.

Me: Izzy's mutt pissed on my bed.

Keelan: OH! I was about to say.

Keelan: And my niece is not a mutt. She's a pure breed.

Keelan: Half pure-breed.

Me: She needs to come get the little shit.

Keelan: Izzy's a little busy at the moment. Why don't you come out?

Me: You know I don't do that.

Keelan: Exactly why you should.

Me: Just tell her to come get her damn dog!

Keelan: Tell her yourself.

Keelan drops me a pin to his location.

Great, this is not how I planned to spend my Friday night.

Chapter 7

Izzy

The crowd is chanting my name, and I can only guess it was the guys who clued them in.

"Ok, ok. I'll do it."

The crowd goes wild.

I look at the DJ, and he gives me a thumbs up. After my fourth shot, I told him he could play the song, and he patiently awaited my signal. I take in a deep breath. Fergie, Hicks, Teagan, and a few of the other players who I still need to learn their names are drumming on the bar below me.

The bartender hands me three bottles and smiles at me.

"Don't worry, you can keep the tips," I wink at her.

She smiles even brighter, "You break it, you buy it, darlin'." It's both a threat and a promise.

The chorus of Bartender by Lady A comes on, and I rise from the barstool, juggling the three bottles as I step onto the bar top.

Slowly, I walk across the bar, pausing to do some lavish spins and pour some shots.

I bend down to toss the bottles behind me a few times, and the crowd cheers and takes shots, singing along to the song. The energy is high, and I can't remember the last time I had this much fun.

"Hey Bar-tender!" The crowd sings, and I jump down, still spinning the three bottles, having not dropped a single one.

Considering I'm pretty lit myself, I probably shouldn't be doing this.

Surprisingly, I'm still able to juggle the three liquor bottles. Throwing in a few back spins just for fun.

As soon as it starts, the song ends, and the boys go nuts.

"Give it up for Izzy and the Houston Heatwave for giving us quite the show tonight," the DJ says, perched in his booth.

The cheers erupt again just as the song changes, and half the bar gets up to dance, finally taking the attention off of me.

Fergie comes up to me first. "That was something else, Iz! Where'd you learn to do that?"

"I'd say she learned a thing or two from her big bro, didn't you, sis?" Keelan throws a protective arm over my shoulder.

"Pfft. You wish," I duck out from under him. "You wouldn't let me near a bottle until I was of age. No, you can thank Aunt Ginny for teaching me that parlor trick."

Keelan shakes his head. "Aunt G? Sunday dinners and see you at church, Aunt Ginny?"

"The very one," I laugh, realizing I must have spent more time with our only living relative than my brother ever did.

When Mom and Dad passed away, Dad's sister took me in and took care of me since I was still underage. I lived with her until I left for college. She never had kids of her own, so I was like the daughter she never had. And she made it a point to keep up the Sunday dinner tradition we used to have as a family growing up. That's what Keelan remembers about her. Something he, too, keeps up to this day.

A blonde with a barely-there outfit and identical friends waves at Keelan. "That's my cue," he says, taking a swig of his drink as he walks away.

As soon as Keelan leaves, Hicks takes my hand, "Let's dance!" He suggests.

"Uh, no, I'm good. I think I've had too much to drink."

"Come on, just one dance," he pouts, and it's actually endearing. I forget he still has a missing tooth for a moment. It must be the alcohol.

"She said no, man." Fergie shoves his shoulder playfully.

Hicks looks at me, and I just scrunch my face. "I'm not really in the mood to dance yet."

"Ok, raincheck," Hicks insists.

"Sure," I say to get him to drop it.

He disappears into the crowd, leaving me with Fergie, who motions to an empty bar-top table.

I nod and follow him, climbing onto one of the high chairs. He flags down one of the bartenders and orders beers that he insists on giving us on the house. Once they are delivered to the table, Fergie leans in.

"You know, Landry told us about the situation with Sincaid," he starts.

"Ugh. I can't believe of all the teams he could've played for, he comes to freakin Houston."

Fergie leans in more so I can hear him over the music, "Say the word, and we'll give him a good hazing."

I shake my head. "I'm just annoyed that he takes this one thing I had. I'm even more annoyed that it was my photos of him that helped me get the job."

"What do you mean?"

"I knew I wanted to get into sports photography to capture those small moments between players. The victories. The losses. You get to see the expressions the real-time cameras miss."

"Ok," Fergie says. "Go on."

"Trevor played hockey. His pictures were in my portfolio."

"Ew."

"Yeah, ew. I would've preferred to burn them, but I figured I might as well get something out of the time I wasted with him."

"Cheers to that," Fergie tips his beer at me, and we clink before taking swigs.

I'm starting to feel the effects of the alcohol. Especially since I'm not much of a drinker.

"So what do you want to do? Dance? Eat? Drink?"

I think about it for a moment. I scan the dance floor and see more of the players on the dance floor having a blast. Trevor isn't here, Thank God. Keelan is in the corner with the puck bunny that beckoned him.

I roll my eyes. "All of the above!"

"Then let's go," he says, jumping off the bar stool.

I down the rest of my beer and jump down to join him and the others.

Chapter 8

Ryker

Ihave one intention while driving to the bar. One.

Find Izzy.

Keelan stopped texting me back. And I need Izzy to get her spawn of the underworld before I do something about it.

Walking in, I'm recognized by a group of hockey fans who try to stop me and get selfies.

Once I get past the wall of superfans, I spot her. She's leaning against the bar. Her top is small and barely clinging to her. Her back is bare, and her jeans are tight-fitted and flared.

She has some gold armband and looks every bit the hippy she probably is. Her long dark hair swishes from side to side as she chats with the person behind the bar. He's a Thor-looking guy with a blonde man-bun.

They're laughing together, and it makes me even more mad. I make my way over to her, and the second I approach, she turns and meets me face to face.

"Oh, you're here," she says casually. She takes a sip of her drink, totally unbothered.

"I'd rather not be."

"What do you want, Goalie-zilla?"

"I want you to go get your damn dog."

She blinks slowly and sways a little as she finds the bar behind her to lean on.

"Why?"

I rub my face, realizing this was stupid. She's not in any condition to take care of herself, let alone her dog.

"How much have you had to drink?"

"What's it to you?" She glares and takes another sip, her tongue fumbling with the straw in her drink.

"Izzy, you need to drink water."

She puts a finger up. "Uh-uh, I'm not one of your teammates for you to be den mothering me around. I," she points to herself and slurs, "am a grown-ass woman. So you," she sticks her finger in my chest, “can leave."

I look around to see if I can find her brother. He's nowhere in sight. And most of the guys are dancing and looking too drunk to notice what's happening.

"Ok, look. I can't just leave you here."

"Why not, Goalie-zilla? Are you my brother's keeper?"

"What?"

"Am I your brother's keeper?" She slurs like she's making perfect sense.

"Izzy, come with me." I extend a hand out to her, and she swats it away. "I'm not your enemy. I'm trying to help you."

"You can help me when I ask for it, Ryker." She crosses her arms over her chest and then quickly covers her mouth. Her face changes in an instant.

"What is it?" I put a hand on her shoulder.

"I'm not feeling too good." She looks like she's about to hurl.

Without a second thought, I quickly bent to pick her up. Lifting her into my arms, I catch a light scent of sweet peaches as her long black hair drapes over my shoulder.

"Hold on," I whisper to her as I get to the sticky bathrooms, pushing past the line waiting outside.

I shove the door with my shoulder, and it opens to a group of college students gossiping and putting on lip gloss in front of the mirrors.

"Out," I roar at them, and they yelp, looking at me horrified.

"Oh my god! Is that Ryker Balinger?" One whispers to another as they gather their things.

This is precisely why I don't go out.

"Now." I give them a glare that has them moving faster.

"The rumors are right. He is an ass." They giggle as they brush past us.

I set Izzy on her feet, and she runs to the first empty stall.

I can't help but wince at the sight of her kneeling on the filthy floor as she heaves the contents of the evening into the toilet bowl.

I instinctively reach for her soft hair and pull it back from her face. A buried memory surfaces of a time long ago when I would hold my mother's hair just like this. She drank herself to near death, which is why I don't so much as even look at alcohol.

Someone pushes the door open as Izzy continues to retch.

"Get out!" I yell back without looking.

"Ryker? What's wrong with her?"

It's Fergie.

"She's gotta go home," I tell him.

He looks sheepish and drops his phone on the floor, swaying as he tries to bend and pick it up. "I'll call us a cab."

"Absolutely not. I'll take you both home."

"Ryker, it's ok. I got this," Fergie protests.

Izzy finally sits back on her heels.

"Better?" I ask her, still holding her hair loosely in my hand.

She nods and then heaves into the toilet again.

"Stupid, Trevor," she whispers to herself, hovering over the bowl.

I see now. She's drinking to get over that dumbass.

"Izzy, please, let me take you and Fergie home. You can't be out here like this."

"Are you offering to take care of me because I'm drunk and pathetic, Balinger? You gonna take advantage of me like all you players do?"

"No, Izzy. Keelan's my boy. And you're the most important person to him."

"Usually," she says, tripping to the sink to rinse her mouth out with water. Her look quickly turns somber.

I've never seen her like this. The Izzy I've come to know is confident. Sure of herself and the things she does. This version of her is...broken.

"Fine. I'll go with you," she decides after a moment.

We both look at Fergie, who's still blocking the door. A line of annoyed and possibly drunk women forms a ruckus just outside of it.

"Um...ok. Well, I ran into an old fling here." He hooks his thumb toward the door. "Kinda wanna see where things go. I'll see you tomorrow, though, ok?" He says to Izzy.

Izzy nods and walks back to me, leaning her head onto my chest and groaning.

She's beautiful. Even with her smudged lipstick and makeup running slightly under her siren eyes. Her lips are pink and full, doing things to my mind and body that I would never dare admit to her brother.

"You ready?"

She nods, and I pick her up and take her to my car, trying to be careful with her noodly body as I strap her into the seat. When we get to the house, I pick her up again, walking her down the hallway to our rooms. I kick open the door to hers, and of course, Wednesday acknowledges that we've arrived now that she catches a glimpse of her inebriated mama.

Izzy's fallen asleep in my arms, so I carefully lay her down. She nuzzles into the pillow while I make quick work of removing her heels. I set them down next to the nightstand and reach for the switch to turn off the lamp when she grabs me by the wrist. The sleep is gone from her eyes.

"Ryker?"

"Yeah?"

"That girl was wrong."

I think back on the night, trying to recall what the hell she's talking about.

"What girl?"

"You're not an ass."

I look back at her as she stretches in her bed, still dressed in those curve-hugging jeans. Her navel piercing is on full display. "You're just misunderstood."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because a guy who's an ass doesn't think about others."

The slurring is gone from her words, and for a moment, I wonder if she was even drunk to begin with.

She tugs for me to sit next to her on the bed, and she sits up a little straighter. "You're a good guy." She says firmly.

I look away from her intense gaze, "No, I'm not."

She reaches forward and takes my chin in her hand to face her. "Yes," she leans in close, our faces close enough for me to feel the warmth of her breath. "You are."

I should go. I should pull away. This is a bad idea. Every alarm in my body is going off, and at the same time, I don't want to move. I want to hear her say these words. I want her to look at me the way she is right this second.

She keeps moving closer, and I'm a statue waiting to get hit by the wave that is Isabella Landry. I close my eyes, and the next thing I feel is her hot vomit coating my shirt.

My eyes shoot open, and it's on her bed and the clothes she's wearing. She closes her eyes and waits to come to.

I hate this, and not just because she just threw up on everything within a five-foot radius. I hate that she'll probably wake up and forget we almost had a moment. I hate that it even came close to happening this way without considering her brother, who asked me to protect her—not take advantage of her. This is the opposite of protecting her.

"I am an ass," I whisper to myself.

But right now, that doesn't matter because Izzy needs someone to care for her.

And a shower.

Chapter 9

Izzy

The pounding headache is the first indication that my night of revenge was an epic disaster.

I was supposed to get wildly drunk, dance the night away, and go home with some hot stranger who would help me get over Trevor 'cheatin’-ass' Sincaid. Instead, I'm blinking away the sleep in my eyes in... What is this? Ryker Balinger's bed?

What the hell?

The smell of bacon and coffee wafts into the large room, and I pull the covers off and realize I have slept totally naked.

Bringing them back up to cover myself, I search the room frantically for my clothes and shoes.

Nothing.

Did the clothes come off before or after Ryker brought me to the room?

Why is my memory such a blur?

How much did I drink?

I decide I need a shower before I can face Ryker again. Switching on the bathroom light, I stare at my disheveled reflection in the mirror.

"Oh, hell no," I whisper.

I rummage through the bottom cabinet and find a bottle of mouthwash. When I rinse the taste of alcohol and bad decisions from my mouth, I go to the oversized shower and turn it on to the highest heat setting. Steam rises and fills the room.

When it's to my liking, I step in. I try to recall what happened last night as the hot water pours over me.

Ok, what do I remember?

I was holding Trevor's old jersey and using it as a tissue when Keelan came banging on my bedroom door. He insisted we go out. I told him no at first. But then he pulled up a picture Trevor posted with some busty puck bunny, and I just about lost my sanity.

The same day he's trying to win me back, he goes and does that.

Keelan suggested we get drunk, so we drove to the Breakaway Bar downtown.

The guys were there. Hicks. Fergie. A few others.

Not Ryker, though. Not at first.

The guys and me—we talked. We danced. We had fun, and the next thing I knew, Ryker Balinger was carrying me into his bed.

OMG. Ryker Balinger brought me home.

Alone.

We must've...ho-ly shit.

I didn't feel like we had. But then again, everything about my body still felt tingly from the alcohol passing through my system.

He took advantage of me. He saw I was drunk, sad, and vulnerable, and just like every other player I know...he saw an opportunity.

I look at the reflection of his crumpled-up bed in the bathroom mirror. The fucking nerve of this guy.

I shut the faucet off violently and don't even bother grabbing a towel before storming into the living room to confront him.

"Balinger!" I call down the hall. "Balinger, what the hell happened last nig—?"

The words stay caught in my throat as a fully dressed Ryker drops his coffee mug to the floor, sending brown liquid up into the air and all over him just as my brother turns to look at me from the kitchen island.

Keelan falls off the stool he's sitting on the instant he sees me, trying to cover his eyes.

"Jesus, Izzy!" He shouts from the floor.

Occupying two other seats at the kitchen island are Fergie and Hicks. Both are staring at me with wide eyes and jaws dropped open.

Why are they here? They were supposed to be staying at the hotel near the bar?! They were all talking about it last night.

My hands shoot to my privates in a measly attempt to cover my dripping wet body just as Ryker marches over to the couch and grabs a throw, tossing it at me.

He looks pissed.

"Damn, Balinger," I hear Fergie say as I run back to my room and slam the door.

I just made the biggest fool of myself in front of my brother and three of his teammates—all of whom I work with.

Oh. My gawd.

My head is spinning as I drop to the bed and cover my head with a pillow.

My mind is crazy with questions. And I wish that I could erase whatever mistakes I had made in the last twelve-plus hours. Nope. There's no recovering from this. It will be the talk of the locker room for the next few months. Guaranteed.

I'm already trying to figure out how to mitigate the noise about this when there's a soft knock on the door that brings me back to the very real present.

"Iz, it's me. Are you decent?"

Ugh. Keelan. I can't show my face. I can never again face my older brother. I'll move away. Find a different career that doesn't require me to face the four men I just saw on a daily basis. Yes, that's it. I'll move to India. I hear cricket is nice. I like warm weather.

Another knock on the door.

"What do you want?" I cry out, muffled by the pillow I'm buried under.

"Ryker washed your clothes. And I have Advil here for you."

Why would Ryker do that?

I groan in response.

"I understand if you don't wanna talk about it. I'll just leave them here, ok?... Iz?"

"Please go away," hot tears stream down my cheeks.

I'm such an idiot. An idiot to give Trevor access to my heart. An idiot for drowning my sorrows in alcohol and winding up in another player's bed. Then I go and humiliate myself even more in front of more of the Heatwave. There's no way I can ever show up to a game now.

Bye, Rina. Thanks for the opportunity, but I'm pretty sure my career is over.

I can see Keelan's shadow from under the door and wait until I hear his footsteps fall away, and decide the only way out of this mess is to put on the clothes and run out the door without looking back. I'll work out the details of my disappearance once I'm very far away from here.

I roll out of the bed and wrap the throw tightly around me as I open the door to a perfectly folded stack of clothes. I snatch them up without sticking my head out and slam the door shut.

"They're all gone." A gravelly voice says from the other side. "You forgot the Advil."

I reach for my drawers and opt for a set of joggers and an oversized Heatwave t-shirt that's on my bed. I catch a whiff of something vile.

"Why on earth would you come out wet and naked, Izzy?"

The audacity of this man. I roughly pull on the clothes and whip open the door to face him.

"Are you serious?! You're asking me why I was naked? I came out to ask you that very thing, Balinger. Why did you wash my clothes from last night?" I bark out.

He leans onto the doorframe and looks me up and down with a small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"My shirt looks good on you," he says with a smirk, ignoring my question.

I look down at the t-shirt I had tugged on and roll my eyes.

"Answer me, Balinger," I hold his gaze with an unrelenting glare.

"Are you asking me if we had sex, Izzy?" He asks, tilting his head to one side.

"What do you think I'm asking?"

"I think," he moves in closer to me until his lips brush against my ear, and in a raspy whisper, he says, "If we had sex, you would know it, Wildfire."

He pulls back, and his green eyes dance over me. The dimples in his cheeks pulse as he holds back his amusement.

Um...what?

Every hair on my body is standing on end. I hate the effect he has on me.

“Wildfire?” I ask with my hands on my hips.

“You seemed like a Sparky at first. But after seeing you…naked,” he chuckles darkly. “You burn with a wild intensity, Wildfire.”

I suddenly can't think straight. The thoughts of what this man would do with me naked play through my mind like an X-rated movie. The look on his face is so smug and irritating. And he licks his lips like he knows exactly what I'm thinking about. He retreats and reaches for something outside the door.

"Anyways, I believe this is yours." He brings a hanger from behind him, revealing my bra and panties set from the night before.

"When did you—"

"Get ready,” he cuts me off. “I'm driving you to practice. The rest of the guys already carpooled."

He pushes the hanger onto my chest. Still grinning, he turns to go back to the living room. I slip on flip-flops and march after him.

"Do you happen to have my phone too, Warden Balinger?"

"We can check the car, but I didn't see you with a phone last night."

I rub my face, "You've gotta be kidding me." Did I leave it at the bar?

"I'll call it and see if somebody answers," he fishes his phone out of his pocket. "What's your number?" He asks.

I laugh. "Oh no, I know what you're doing."

He looks at me with zero humor in his eyes. "Do you want your phone or not, Izzy?"

I do. I need it, actually. Especially since I need to find a way to get the hell out of Houston and possibly change my name, find a new career, and never be found again.

"Here," he hands me his phone. "Dial it, I'm gonna grab my gear."

He leaves me with the smell of his woodsy cologne tickling my nostrils and making me feel something low in my belly.

God, he smells fantastic. It's not fair.

I punch in my number and hit the call button. It rings twice.

"Hello?" A man's voice answers.

"Hi! Hello? Who is this?"

"Who is this?" the deep voice asks back. And it sounds almost familiar.

"Izzy, this is my phone," I deadpan.

"Ah," the voice says with a hint of humor. "Please tell me you're the cute brunette with the mad flair skills."

I let out a nervous laugh. "Please tell me you're not a serial killer."

He laughs, too. "I'm not a serial killer, Izzy. But someone found your phone and brought it to the bar last night."

"Oh, thank God. So you're the bartender?"

He laughs again. "Yeah, you can say that."

"Awesome, well, I'll be swinging by there in like twenty minutes. Is that okay?"

"More than okay."

The man has me blushing through the phone.

"Just ask for Justin," he adds. "I'll be waiting for you."

When Ryker returns from his room, he has a black duffle bag thrown over his shoulder.

"Change of plans," I tell him.

"So you don't want to leave yet?" He eyes me curiously.

"Ew, no. I definitely need to leave." I make my way back up the stairs to change.

"Need and want are two different things," he points out.

"I want you to take me back to the Breakaway. My phone is there with Justin."

"O-kay. And Justin is?"

"My soon-to-be boyfriend, if there's such a thing as fate. Let's go, Goalie-zilla."

Just before I disappear up the stairs, a look crosses Ryker’s face that I can clearly make out.

Jealousy.

Chapter 10

Ryker

Iinsist on going inside with her despite her weak-ass protests. She doesn't know this guy. He could be a scammer, for all she knows.

Hell no. Keelan wouldn't let me hear the end of it. I won't let her out of my sight.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," she squeals as the blonde-haired Chris Hemsworth lookalike approaches her with her pink shimmering phone in hand.

Great, it's the Thunder-god she was speaking to last night. Just my fucking luck.

"Glad to make your day, Izzy."

And he knows her name? Who the hell is this asshole?

She throws her arms around his neck in a quick hug and then lets go and kisses her phone. At least it was her phone and not this guy.

"I wouldn't do that," Justin says, wincing. "It was found on the bathroom floor."

Izzy gags theatrically.

"That's unfortunate," I say, crossing my arms.

Justin glances over at me.

"Can I get you guys anything to drink?" he offers.

Oh great, he's nice too.

"Yes, please!" Izzy says at the same time I say, “No thanks.”

Justin rubs the back of his neck, clearly trying to get a read on us.

“Ok, so what’ll it be, Izzy?”

“A diet Coke with three ice cubes and a splash of lime,” she smiles brightly.

“What?” I eye her.

“It’s what I always get. Just ask, Keelan,” she shrugs.

“Coming right up,” says Justin. He pops open the bar top and slides behind it like he’d done it a million times before.

“You didn’t order that last night,” I remind her.

“That’s because last night I was trying to forget a certain hockey player exists, and today I have new problems."

"Hmm," is all I respond. We still need to talk about the Trevor thinking we're together thing. I'll wait to bring it up in the car.

I shove my hands in my pocket and look around the place. In the daylight, it definitely loses its charm. You can see just how dingy it is. Scuff marks are all over the floor from the nightly drunk dancers. The paint looks like it hasn't been retouched in what seems like over a decade.

"So, how long have you been working here, Justin?" Izzy asks, leaning the top half of her body over the bar and anticipating his answer.

She'd changed into her usual attire of curve-hugging yoga pants and oversized Heatwave merch. But today, she's wearing some dark combat boots with the ensemble. Her hair is up in a whimsical topknot. It suits her.

Thor whips out a glass, drops in three cubes, and sprays some Diet Coke into it. "Pretty much my whole life, really." He squeezes a lime over the top and sticks a straw in. "My dad owned the place and passed it on to me," he clarifies.

"That's pretty cool. Bet you meet some interesting people."

"Every night," he pushes the drink towards Izzy.

"Anyone I would know?" She takes a sip. Her perfect lips wrap around the straw, and she plays with it in her mouth as she speaks.

He leans onto the bar, "Hmm, we've had a few celebrities stop in. Mostly sports stars. We get some Heatwave guys that are regulars."

She grins with the straw still in her mouth and looks back at me.

"I'd recognize Ryker Balinger anywhere," Justin admits. "You're a legend, man."

Well, shit. Now I have to be nice. He's a fan.

"Thanks." I shrug at a loss for words at the moment.

How do I tell him to beat it, fucker...without saying 'beat it, fucker?'

"Hey, you mind if I get an autograph? You're a favorite around here." He pulls a goblet from the top shelf and fishes out a Sharpie from somewhere under the bar top. "Three shutouts last season." He whistles in appreciation.

Fuck, why not?

We need to get going. I go over to him. "Who should I make it out to?"

"Just Justin," he smiles. And the blue in his eyes stands out even in the dim light of the club.

"Right." I look at Izzy, who's watching me with hawk eyes, and I scribble something quickly—finishing it off with my signature before turning back to Izzy.

"Drink up. We got practice."

She glowers at me but sucks on the straw and downs the drink like a pro.

"Thanks for saving my ass, Justin. You've got a loyal customer in me," she says, jumping off the barstool and grabbing her purse and phone.

Oh sure, Justin saved your ass.

"Not a problem. You guys stop by anytime."

We walk towards the exit, but I give a quick glance back just in time to see Justin reading my note on the glass and chuckling to himself.

He got my message.

Good.

"Balsy, where's your head at?" Keelan skates towards me, stopping just short of the goalpost to snow me.

"Try that one more time, Landry, and you won't have legs to skate on."

"Calm down, Hulk. And hey, you're the one on thin ice, man. Why don't you tell me why my sister was naked in your bed this morning." He hits my helmet with the end of his stick.

"I told you nothing happened, Kee. And I'm not the one you need to be checking today."

Just as the words come out of my mouth, Trevor Sincaid jumps the boards and makes his way to center ice.

He's been practicing with us for weeks. But nobody knew he was Izzy's ex. A detail Keelan said he wishes he had known before he befriended the asshole.

"We're not done talking about this," Keelan points his stick at me in warning before skating over to Sincaid.

Hicks comes over to me and raises a bushy eyebrow. "So...Landry's sister. Kinda weird, don't you think?"

"Fuck off, Hicks."

"Hey, I get it. The girl's got a bangin' body. Pretty face. And clearly, she's got a thing for players. So how was she?"

"Hicks, I swear to god."

"What? That good, huh?"

Before I can think, I lunge forward, shouldering him and sending him flying on his ass across the ice. At that exact moment, Keelan and Sincaid throw punches on the other side of the ice. Our teammates all stop in their tracks, their heads swiveling from one side of the rink to the other.

A whistle blasts from the team bench. "What the hell is going on here?" Coach's eyes are shooting fire.

Fergie looks over at me with wide eyes.

"Hicks, Balinger, off the ice!" He shouts. "Landry and Sincaid, you too."

I pick up my stick and make my way to the stands where Coach is waiting for us.

The rest of the team is rooted in place, but once Coach Murray looks at them, they continue running their drills.

"Why are my players turning on each other? This isn't the kind of energy we need going into the season. Care to tell me what the beef is?"

We stay silent. Our eyes are all glaring at each other to see who will break.

It's Keelan who does. "Coach, why is Sincaid here?"

Trevor chuckles to himself, and I shove him in his side.

"Enough," Coach says to me. "And I was getting ready to announce that, Landry—right before I saw you four throwing down on my ice."

Keelan and I exchange glances.

Coach blows his whistle, and the team stops skating in their tracks and hustles over to join us.

"Heatwave! The GMs have worked a deal. Due to unforeseen circumstances, Jessie Teagan is no longer able to continue to play for us. He's needed back home in California urgently. Which means...I'd like for you all to meet your new left defenseman, Trevor Sincaid."

Trevor stands and bows triumphantly.

"Sit down, Sincaid, I'm not done with you."

Coach turns back to everyone. "He's one of ours now, so I expect him to be treated as such. That being said, Monday is Teagan's last game with us. We'll be sending him off with a farewell after at the Breakaway. I expect full participation. Understood?"

The team answers in unison. "Yes, coach."

"Good, now get back to work." He blows his whistle again, and the team hustles off.

"Now, back to you four. Someone care to tell me what the hell is going on?"

"Coach, if I may?" Hicks speaks up. I quickly shoot daggers at him, but he ignores me and stands. "It looks like there's one common denominator here."

Keelan inhales deeply, trying his best to keep his composure.

"And what's that?" Coach asks, eyes bouncing to each of us.

"Isabella Landry."

"The new photographer?" Coach Murray raises an eyebrow in surprise.

Hicks nods with pursed lips, and I have the sudden urge to knock out a few more of his teeth.

"And how does this involve Ms. Landry?"

If I don't do anything, the beef between Sincaid and Keelan will come out, and Izzy's professionalism will be questioned. Or Hicks will say something stupid and make matters even worse.

In a split second, the words fly out of me. "We're dating, Coach." The second they came out, I knew I'd have hell to pay.

Keelan's head shoots back in my direction, and I don't look at him.

"You and Ms. Landry are..."

"Dating, yes," I say calmly.

"You know you'll need to take this up with management to ensure all the proper disclosures are in place?"

"Yes, Coach."

"And the rest of you?"

Have all seen her naked. And it will never happen again if I have anything to do with it.

They all shoot glances at each other, more confused than anything else, and shrug.

Coach is over it. "Work your shit out like men. Not boys. We've got work to do, and I need all of you operating at your peak levels. Am I understood?"

"Yes, Coach." We say in unison.

"Lars, Hutch, Augie, and O’Connor. You're taking their places."

"Fucking hell," Keelan says under his breath.

"You got a problem with that, Landry?"

"No, coach."

"Good."

Coach leaves us, and nobody says anything. We take off our helmets and remove our gear.

Keelan glances at me and mouths, 'What the fuck?'.

I turn to Sincaid and Hicks, scowling at them both.

"Look. It wasn't all my fault, alright," Sincaid starts. "Izzy was getting, you know...clingy and shit." He shrugs his shoulders like he needs to get a monkey off his back.

"You were fucking dating, you ass," Keelan hisses under his breath.

"Clingy, how?" asks Hicks next to him.

"You know, showing up at random practices. Wearing my jersey to games," Sincaid told him. "Shit that wives do, man."

"So you go and fuck her best friend to prove a point? You're such a dick." Keelan shoves him.

Damn. I didn't realize it was her best friend.

"I didn’t fuck her,” Sincaid says furiously. “Besides, looks like it didn't take her long to replace me," he tips his chin in my direction.

Keelan instantly bucks up to him.

I place a heavy hand on his shoulder. "Let it go, Kee."

"No, I'm not going to fucking let it go. And what the hell is all this about you two dating? You said nothing was going on between you two."

His anger turns to me, and I rub my hand down my face, knowing I just made an enormous mistake opening up my big fat mouth.

"Let's talk about this later," I tell him.

He jerks away from me and stomps towards the locker room.

Keelan hates being left out of the loop, and anything involving his sister he doesn't know about is a major curveball. But right now, I've got some explaining to do.

And this isn't the Landry I need to do it to.

Chapter 11

Izzy

My phone buzzes in my pant pocket for what feels like the fifteenth time today.

Rina is still giving me the rundown of the expectations and what we're trying to capture for both the Heatwave's social media presence and editorials. We're going through examples of what not to do when my phone buzzes again. I don't dare check it. She pauses as I reach into my pocket to silence the vibrating.

"Uh, you should probably get that. Sounds like it might be an emergency."

I let out a nervous chuckle, realizing she's probably just as annoyed with the interruptions as I am. When I see that the caller ID is Keelan, Rina's eyes look from the screen and back to me, and she nods for me to answer.

"Excuse me," I say, backing away towards the entrance of her office.

"Yes, brother?" I hiss out as I shut the door behind me.

"Fuckin' Ryker, Iz?" He's furious.

"Um, what?"

"I warned you. These guys aren't what you need. You need to end it."

"What are you—" I see a tall figure moving down the hall. He takes up almost all the space as he stalks towards me.

"Keelan, I have to go."

"End it!" He says before I hang up.

"Ryker, what the hell is going on?"

Ryker slows down as he reaches me and pauses to look through the small window on the door of Rina's office. She's inside taking a call now.

"We need to talk."

"I'm in the middle of work, if you can't tell." I swear they're all such divas.

I turn to reach for the knob, and he places a solid hand on my shoulder.

"This can't wait," he urges me.

I look from his hand back to his face. He's serious. I mean, he usually is, but something must've happened.

"Fine, wait here."

I open the door and excuse myself with Rina, telling her I need a bathroom break. She smiles and waves me off, still talking on the phone.

I shut the door and grab Ryker's wrist so he can follow me into the equipment storage closet I saw on my way in. I pull him in and shut the door behind us, fumbling to find the light switch. He reaches over from behind me and flicks it on.

When I turn to face him, he looks...distraught. I can already put the pieces together.

"Trevor told Keelan you and I are a thing, didn't he?"

"Uh, not exactly." He brings an arm up to rub the back of his neck, causing his biceps to bulge, and I have to pull my eyes away from the delicious movement of his muscles to focus on his face.

"Well then, why is he blowing up my phone, telling me to call it quits with you?" I put my hands on my hips and glare up at him.

"Because I told him."

"You, what?"

"And the guys. And..." he pauses. I motion for him to go on. "Coach Murray," he blurts out.

"Shit."

"I know."

"Rina's not going to like this."

"I wouldn't worry about Rina," he insists.

"Oh, you wouldn't?" I sneer. "Well, she's my boss, Ryker. So, of course, you wouldn't have to worry about her, but I do."

"No, what I mean is," he sighs and shakes his head. "Never mind, we need to figure out what to do from here."

"Are you serious?"

"Yes, Izzy. I'm very serious. Murray wants us to disclose our relationship to management."

"What relationship, Ryker? There is no relationship. No, you and me. Except for this messed up situation that you've got us into, and for what?"

He throws his hands up, exasperated. "I don't know, Izzy. I was trying to protect you."

"Protect me?" I'm basically shouting at this point. If someone were to walk by, they might think we're up to something in here.

He puts his hands out and moves them up and down, signaling me to lower my voice.

"Jeezus, what is it with you fucking men?" I whisper. "I don't need protection, okay? I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

I need to get out of this. I need to find Keelan, thank him for everything he's done for me, and get the hell out of the hockey bad-boy halfway house before I lose my sanity or murder someone.

Or both.

"Izzy," my name comes out like a breath. I look up at him. "I'm sorry for getting you into this. I don't know why I thought I could help, but I'll fix this."

Well, shit. Now, I feel bad for blowing up on him. He did take care of me, after all. He had the best intentions. It's really Trevor who I should be upset about.

I hear a voice coming down the hall and quickly shut off the light.

"What are you—"

"Shhh," I put my hand over Ryker's face to shut him up.

"No, baby. I swear there's nothing going on with her. I told you that you don't have to worry about that."

"Is that—"

"Shhhhhhhh," I whisper again to Ryker. We both have our ears to the door.

"Tricia...baby, no, that was just a fan...Trish."

I let out an audible groan.

"What is it?" Ryker whispers beside me.

"He's talking to my old roommate. They must still be seeing each other. God, I freakin hate him."

The tears are getting ready to spring forth again. I can feel them just on the edge.

He doesn't deserve my feelings. He doesn't deserve my pain. The mantra Aunt Ginny helped me remember repeats in my head.

My chest is rising and falling faster, and I can't control the emotions bubbling up. I shouldn't have to feel this anymore.

He doesn't deserve my tears. I need to move on from him.

That's when I feel the warmth of Ryker's hand reaching for my cheek. Even in the dark, he's able to find my face, and with his thumb, he wipes the tears, now leaving trails of heat as they fall to the floor.

"Don't," he whispers.

I try hard to breathe normally.

"He's not worth it," he urges.

I hang my head, feeling embarrassed by my emotions when he moves in front of me. His body pinned me to the door.

"Izzy," I feel his presence. His arms wrap around my shoulders, big and strong.

Safe.

Why does he make me feel so safe? I'm mad at him, damn it.

Something comes over me, and without another thought, I reach for the collar of his jersey, pulling him down so that our lips meet.

He's tense at first. I can feel it in his muscles locking up around me. But then, he melts into it. His lips move over mine, taking me in softly. Our tongues dance over each other. Our breathing gets erratic with our hands moving over each other's bodies. It's like we're both locked into the moment, and something about him feels so right.

Until the door behind me gives way, and I fall backward. Ryker grabs me by the waist and lifts me up before I can hit the floor.

"Oh shit. Sorry, I didn't think anyone was in he—Izzy?"

Ryker spins me around so I'm facing Fergie. My face is flush. I can feel it.

"He-ey," I give him a pathetic wave. He looks from me to Ryker and back to me.

"So, it's true," he smiles. "You two are like a couple, right?" He motions between us.

Ryker stays quiet, waiting for me to make the move.

Damn. News sure does travel fast around here.

"Uh," I chuckle nervously, "Yeah. Yeah, we are," I'm rubbing my shoulder, feeling very uncomfortable with this whole situation. But something tells me we're in too deep. We're going to have to see it through.

"We were just on our way to tell management," I add to boot.

I'm such an idiot.

I look back at Ryker, who takes a split second to process it and then nods.

"Yep," he grabs my hips and brings me closer to him so my back is flush against his chest. And for the first time, I get a feel for the punch he's packing in his pants.

Trevor comes out of the locker room, his eyes locked on us. And I lean into Ryker without much thought.

"Cool," Fergie says, totally unfazed and still smiling. "Well, see you both at home."

He turns and joins the other players heading out of the arena.

I face Ryker, "Are we really doing this?"

His eyes look down at my lips, and I can feel them still swollen from our kiss. He reaches out to run his thumb over them. "Your call, Wildfire."

The look in his eyes is tender. Nothing like the fiery hate I've been seeing since I met him. He's soft toward me.

I breathe in and grab his hand, pulling him toward Rina's office. "Let's go tell management."

Chapter 12

Ryker

"So you're just not going to talk to me?"

Keelan looks over at me from the pool chair he's in. He removes the sunglasses from his eyes to glare at me, returns them to his face, and takes another sip of beer. "Nice. Really mature man."

He turns to face Fergie to the right of him. "I'm sorry. Did you say something, Ferg?"

Fergie looks at me, confused, and then back at Keelan. "What?"

Keelan shrugs, "Hmm, weird, must've been a bug." He takes another swig.

"Ok, Kee. When you're ready to be a big boy and actually talk about your feelings. You know where to find me."

Wednesday sits at his feet and looks at Keelan as if waiting for a response. He gives us nothing.

A hurt Keelan Landry is a worse storm than the one that kicked us all out of our homes a few weeks ago.

I shake my head and go back inside, running into Hicks on his way out.

"Take it you’re still in the doghouse?"

"Shut up," I say, brushing past him.

"Hey, you're the one banging his sis—"

I turn to him and push him up against the wall, "You really don't want to finish that sentence, Hicks. Unless you don't value any of your remaining teeth."

He shakes me off and puts his hands up in surrender.

"Good call,” I say.

I watch him meet up with the other two housemates. Keelan reaches into his cooler and hands him a beer. Wow. Keelan's totally oblivious to the fact that he has more to worry about with Hicks than he ever does with me. But it's not my place to convince him of that.

The front door opens, and Izzy comes bounding in with paper bags full of leaves and other colorful items.

"What's all this?"

"I'm cooking Sunday dinner."

"You're cooking?" I question her as I take two of the bags from her and follow her into the kitchen.

"Yes, Goalie-zilla. I can cook, you know."

"My bad, I haven't seen you do much in the kitchen since you arrived."

"That's because," she heaves one of the bags full of veggies onto the counter, causing it to spill out, "I didn't realize hockey players eat like shit. Probably one of the reasons y'all sucked so bad last season."

"Excuse me, I don't eat like shit."

"No," she looks me up and down. "But you do eat like a carnivore, which is why I'm going to introduce you to the wonderful world of vibrant colors."

Fergie stomps in, dripping water, and opens the fridge. The inside is bare except for some takeout and a case of beer.

"Really, Michael," Izzy motions toward the floor and the puddle he's leaving.

He looks back at her and scrunches his nose. "It's just water."

I grab the kitchen towel hanging on the oven and snap it on his ass.

"Ouch! Fine, I'll clean it," he says, ripping it out of my hands and dropping it onto the floor. "I liked it better when you two individually would get on me. This is just unfair."

He tosses the wet towel into the sink, grabs a few beers, and heads back toward the pool.

"Michael?" I ask, helping her empty the contents of the bags onto the counter.

"That's his name."

"And I'm Goalie-zilla?"

"What would you prefer I call you?" She pauses and turns to face me.

I shrug. "Well, according to everyone we know, you're my girlfriend, something more...endearing."

"Endearing?" she deadpans. "Like Ryker's Island for the imprisonment you've now put me in by locking me into this weird situation. Rooming with you. Working with you. Dating you."

"Really, Izzy? You had a choice."

"Not much," she narrows her eyes at me and returns to her rabbit food.

Keeping this up with that attitude is going to be ridiculous.

"Look, I'm fighting World War Three with Keelan over all this. I'm just saying we should probably make it more convincing."

She slams the carrots down and breathes deep. She pushes her shoulders back before turning to face me. What's this about?

"Ok, Ryker." Her voice is sweet and sultry. "What would you like me to call you? Honey? Baby?" She walks up to me until we're toe to toe. "Daddy?" She raises an eyebrow.

She's teasing me. But any of those words coming from her mouth cause parts of me to twitch that I'd rather not get activated right now.

She pushes her chest into me and looks up with those siren eyes, beckoning me to do something.

"You really don't want to poke this bear, Wildfire." I'm looking down at her, remembering the kiss we shared yesterday. Those lips. The taste of her. The moans she let out for me.

She runs a finger down my chest and over my abs. Stupid clothes. "What if I like poking the bear, Goalie-zilla?"

A low rumble escapes me. Ok, two can play at this game.

I grab her by the waist and hoist her onto the kitchen counter, knocking some of her groceries onto the floor. Her eyes go wild, and she looks around to see if anyone is watching.

I spread her thighs open and slide in between them, leaning in with both my hands on either side of her. We're face to face, and I'm staring into her eyes. Her breath hitches.

"Go ahead then, Wildfire. Poke the bear."

Her eyes narrow, and she wraps her arms around my neck, pulling me closer to her. Now I know I can't hide the growing erection in my pants.

She wraps her legs around my waist, and we're as close as we can be with clothes on. We're at a stalemate, breathing heavy. Both of us coaxing the other to make the next move with just our eyes.

"Um, sorry to interrupt," a voice comes from the kitchen entrance.

Izzy looks over my shoulder to see who it is, but I already know.

"Landry and the guys are out back, Teagan." Keelan must've invited more of the guys over and didn't care to tell us.

Izzy and I don't move a muscle, knowing the first one to move from this is the weakest link. And we're both way too stubborn to let the other have more control.

"Th-anks, B." He shuffles past us. I hear the sliding door open and close.

Izzy's gaze returns back to me. "Your move, bear."

I move my hands from the counter to her hips, thrusting into her. She clenches harder and throws her head back in pure ecstasy. There's no way I can keep this up. Not here, not now. With a bunch of the guys out back and whoever else might walk through these doors.

In one swift move, I hoist her over my shoulder.

"Ryker!" she yelps.

"Uh-uh. You're asking for this."

"Where are you taking me? I need to cook."

"They can order takeout." I carry her across the house into our corridor. I open the door to my room and kick the door shut, throwing her onto my bed.

When I look down at her, there isn't an ounce of shock on her face. She's smiling from ear to ear.

"You like this, don't you?" I ask her cocking my head to one side.

She bites her lip, and I know the answer is yes.

She sits up on her elbows, and I slide her to the edge of the bed, where I lean down and take those lips into my mouth again. She surrenders to me—all the passion returns in a swift gust.

There's something here. Whether we want to pretend it's here or not. And I know it scares her because it scares the hell out of me. And not much can scare me these days.

We break apart just long enough to catch our breath, but she grabs me by the waist so that I'm hovering over her outstretched body.

Our mouths crash again, and it's the sweetest taste I can imagine. The smell of peaches combined with the essence that is Izzy. It's too much for my senses to handle. She has me wound up tight. I reach down to lift up her shirt, and she wiggles it off, showing off two perfect breasts.

"You're so fuckin' beautiful," I tell her. And it's the God's honest truth. I've never seen a woman like her. A goddess bared to me. Perfect, plump. My own personal piece of forbidden fruit. And I'm finding it impossible to resist.

I lean down and take one of her nipples into my mouth, drawing out a deep sigh from her. She arches her back, and her thighs rub against my restrained erection.

I lick and tease her nipple until it's a perfect peak, and then go to the other one. She watches me. Her hips bucking, driving friction over my pants, and all I can think about is ripping off hers.

I need to taste more of her.

I kiss down her abdomen and run my tongue over that pretty little navel piercing she's been teasing me with for the last week. When I kiss even lower, both her hands go to my head and stop me.

I look up at her.

"I have to ask you something," she says sheepishly.

“I’m clean, Izzy. We get tested pretty regularly. And I haven't been with anyone in a really long time.”

I think she sees the worried look on my face. The look that I’ve crossed a line.

"No, no. It's not that. And I'm clean, too. I’ve also been on birth control for a while.”

I push myself up until I sit beside her on the bed. She looks around the room as if trying to formulate her thoughts. "I don't know how to say this."

"Whatever it is, I can handle it," I urge her.

She lets out a breath and covers her eyes.

"Will you teach me?" she breathes out in a rush.

Chapter 13

Izzy

Iwatch as his face goes from worried to surprised.

"Teach you?" he asks, somewhat amused.

"Yes," I breathe out, nearly shaking, probably from being shirtless and totally vulnerable.

"Ok," he nods as he considers it. "What do you want to know?"

I hesitate to answer. Because how do you say the things without sounding like a horny perv.

“Um…everything. Teach me what feels good. For you. For…me. I’ve never done more than kiss.”

His eyes go molten. The look there sends a shiver down my spine.

I don't know if I can be totally honest with this man. I barely know him. But he's Keelan's best friend, and Keelan's always been a pretty great judge of character. Besides, something in me connects deeply with something in Ryker. I know we can both feel it.

“And you trust me?” He asks, waiting.

"I do," I answer honestly. I look at him, and there's a slight tug on his lips. "What?" I ask, rolling my eyes. "You find this amusing? I'm being serious."

"No, yeah. It is serious. I'm sorry. I just...wow, ok. I just read you wrong this whole time, and I feel like a total ass."

I sit up to see him better. "What are you talking about?"

"The piercing, the tattoo, the yoga pants?"

"Wait, you saw my tattoo?"

Now, he bites his lip.

"Izzy, I showered you, remember? I've seen a lot more of you than you've seen of me."

Damn. He's right. I totally forgot he's already seen me naked and at my most vulnerable. There's a pink tinge that sneaks up into his ears, and I know he's embarrassed that he's seen it.

"And what did you think?"

He closes his eyes, and when they look back at me, I can feel the intensity in his gaze.

"I haven't stopped thinking about that little heart tattoo."

My breath catches, and I can't believe he got close enough to see it without me knowing.

"I'm sorry if that was personal. Nothing happened that night, I promise."

"I believe you," I say, reaching for his shoulders.

"So what do you want to do? You're in control here, Wildfire."

Those words make me feel even safer to be with him. Because, yes, I've always been in control. Which is why none of the other guys I've ever been involved with had access to me in this way.

But I want Ryker. I want him to know me. All of me. Just like I'm dying to know him. In every way imaginable. We've already crossed the line that was set out before us. Now, it's up to us to see how far we want this to go.

"We take it slow," I finally say.

He reaches out and caresses my cheek. "Ok," he smiles. And that smile nearly knocks the breath out of me. There's no way this can be real.

Every time I've told someone my situation—that I haven’t… It's been met with intrigue but never with this restraint and patience.

He says it like he means it. And I feel it.

"This is about you," he says, pushing me onto my back as he lays down next to me and runs a finger down my chest to my navel.

Goosebumps pop up over my skin as I savor his touch.

"You want to kiss. We'll kiss," he continues to caress my skin. "You want my mouth to go somewhere other than your lips," He leans in close. "You just tell me. Whatever you need. I want to hear it."

I nod as he sends shivers coursing across every inch of my skin.

"What if," my breath hitches as his fingers dance over my nipples. "What if I don't know what I want?"

"Hmm," he thinks about that for a second. "Well, you know what you don't want, right?"

"Yeah, I think I can figure that out as things progress."

"Ok, well, if there's something you don't want me to do or you don't like, just say 'red.' And I'll stop whatever it is we're doing."

"Red?" I ask as he continues trailing his fingers over me.

"It's a safe word."

"As in, BDSM?" I ask. He cinches his brows together in disbelief. "I'm a virgin, not a prude," I quip.

He chuckles to himself, and it's the most genuine sound. I want to hear more of it.

"A safe word is just for me to know that you actually mean 'no' instead of relying on words you might say in the heat of the moment that might cause confusion."

I can feel that familiar nervous prickle in my underarms at the thought of actually getting so caught up in the heat of a moment that I don't use words that make sense.

"Ok, red. Got it. So you'll be my fake boyfriend slash sex coach. This'll be so great."

Ryker looks at me incredulously. And then bursts out laughing again, but this time it's a full belly laugh.

"You say it like it's some kind of task. I just want you to trust yourself enough to speak up about what you like and what you don't like. You won't hurt my feelings, I promise."

We're facing each other in his bed, our noses almost touching. "Ok, but can you tell me one thing?"

"What's that?"

"Are you secretly into that kinky BDSM stuff?"

He smiles big and wide. "I don't know. I've never really tried it. Guess we can find out."

The prospect of learning new things with Ryker has me both excited and nervous. If the way he's cared for me so far is any proof, I know I can trust him to take care of me at my most vulnerable.

He kisses me and then reaches over to grab the top that we discarded earlier.

"Sit up," he tells me. And I do as he says.

He slips on my tank and tsks. "I can't believe you're not wearing a bra."

"Bras suck," I admit, tugging the shirt down to my tummy.

"Yes, they do. Annoying little things, aren't they?"

"Exactly."

He laughs again. "Come on, Wildfire. Something tells me Keelan won't be too happy when he sees the mess we made in the kitchen."

He reaches his hand out to help me up, and I take hold of it, but instead of letting him lift me up, I pull him down onto the bed and quickly straddle him.

He moves his hands to my hips, and I put mine on either side of his face, bringing it up to me so I can kiss him hard and deep.

He growls into my mouth as I ravage him. "Let him wait," I say while I rock my hips and keep tasting him.

I quickly stand long enough to tug my pants off and pull the shirt back over my head, dropping both items to the floor. I'm left with only my thong.

I reach down to unzip Ryker's jeans and tug them down until they join my articles of clothing on the floor. I leave his boxer briefs on. They're hugging him in all the right places, and he looks so delicious. But I do want to take this slow.

I straddle him again, this time feeling the full force of his erection right at my apex as our lips meet. It feels amazing. I rub my panties up and down his shaft, enjoying the friction of fabric against fabric and the heat of our bodies moving together.

He's not inside me, but I feel a low pressure in my belly that makes me want to keep going.

"Have you ever done this, Izzy?" He's trying hard to maintain his composure.

I shake my head and keep slowly rubbing up and down, allowing myself to enjoy the hardness of him between my folds.

"Do you want to know what it feels like…on you?" He asks, his hips now moving with mine.

"Yes," I breathe out.

He reaches down and pulls my panties to the side, allowing my clit to be exposed. Then he reaches into his boxers and strokes his erection before allowing it to spring out from under the boxers.

My mouth waters, and I want so badly to feel his skin on my skin.

"Remember the safe word," he says.

And I nod before I drop my forehead to his.

He pumps his shaft and then starts rubbing the head onto my clit in small circular motions.

"Oh, my...." I won't last long. I can feel the orgasm on the cusp of ripping through me.

I buck my hips to meet his skin, sliding thrust for thrust between my folds—never entering me. I feel every bit of ecstasy at the experience he's delivering, though.

"Ryker, I," his lips meet mine, and he runs his tongue over my own until I feel the release break through. I scream into his mouth, and he continues to buck forward, giving me wave after wave of blissful pleasure until my breathing returns to somewhat normal.

"That was...wow. I can't even..."

He chuckles and continues to kiss me.

"That's a very powerful weapon you got there," I gasp.

He nods and smiles as he returns my panties to their original position and reaches down to tuck in his erection. But I put my hand over his as he grips himself.

"I want you to teach me."

He cinches his brows.

"What?"

I nod. "Teach me what feels good...for you?"

He closes his eyes like I just said the most amazing thing he's ever heard.

"You don't have to, Wildfire. I'm just concerned that you feel good. Always."

I don't let go of his shaft and instead move my hand up and down over his.

"Teach me," I insist.

He lets out a shuddered breath.

"Ok, fuck. I'm not going to last long, that I can guarantee."

He lets go, replaces his hand with my own, and shows me how he likes to be stroked.

The grip is pretty strong, and I can feel the ripple of his erection as he moves my hand up and down.

But it feels a little dry. That can't feel good. I notice the bead forming at the head, and I get the urge to taste him. Without even saying a word, I move my mouth over his head and suck it into my mouth.

"Oh, god, baby..." he squeezes his eyes shut. I continue to coat him with my saliva as I work my mouth up and down over his shaft until it hits the back of my throat and my eyes water a bit.

He reaches down to wipe the tears away that have dripped onto my cheek, and the look in his eyes is pure admiration.

I maintain my grip at the base of his erection and keep working my mouth up and down until I find a rhythm that feels right. He's not actually coaching me. I'm just doing what I want with him. Tasting him. Teasing him. Owning him. And he's writhing under me, trying very hard to maintain composure.

I feel his erection begin to twitch.

"Izzy, I won't last," he says, and I go faster, my eyes watering even more.

"You gotta let me go, Iz. I can't hold it."

He wants me to pop him out of my mouth so he can release his pleasure, but all I want is to taste him on my tongue. I lock my hands onto his hips and keep going.

"You want me to fill your mouth." He says it like a statement, and I try to nod my acknowledgment as best I can.

"You're so fuckin beautiful sucking my cock like that, baby."

Wow, that filthy mouth of his has me clenching my sex as another orgasm rips through me, and I feel the warm spurts of his release coat my tongue.

I swallow it all down, like it's the only meal I've had all day, and lick him up until there's nothing left.

His eyes haven't left mine, and he looks dumbfounded. When he can finally speak, he sounds ragged.

"That is not the mouth of a virgin, Isabella." He pulls me up to his lips and kisses me gently.

I slip my tongue into his mouth to let him taste himself, and he hums his satisfaction.

Chapter 14

Ryker

The arena is buzzing tonight. It's the season's first home game. How we play tonight will determine how the rest of the season might go, especially when it comes to keeping the fans happy. Heatwave fans can be brutal.

That's why Keelan doesn't bother letting the Izzy thing get to him. I can tell he is tabling it...for now.

As team captain, I know he's carrying the team's weight on his shoulders.

Coach pounds on the first stall as he enters the locker room, drawing our attention to the door like he always does.

"Heat-wave," he calls out.

"Yes, Coach."

"You guys have worked your asses off all summer, and this is where we lay it all down."

"Yes, Coach."

"Teagan!" He looks around the locker room for the defenseman.

"Here, Coach," he pushes toward the front.

"We're sad to see you go, son. But let's play like it's the last game of all our careers, and after, we celebrate you at the Breakaway. I expect everyone to be there."

"Yes, Coach," the team says in unison.

"Alright, Game faces. Team captain?"

"Right here, Coach," Keelan rises from where he sat in front of his stall.

"Let's bring the heat."

"Yes, Coach," he smiles big. Always up for a challenge.

"Fire on the ice!" Fergie shouts from the back.

"Show em' what we're made of, boys," Coach adds.

I know I can't see her. But even with the screaming fans, pounding music, and general mayhem—I can still feel her.

I can imagine what it would feel like to watch her wear my jersey and shout from the stands. Though if I were to guess, she's probably in a pair of yoga pants and a heatwave long-sleeve shirt, already too hot from moving around to capture the perfect shots.

I hear banging on the glass behind me.

"Hey, Goalie-zilla!"

I turn toward the sound and see Izzy with her camera aimed at me. I can tell she is taking a series of shots and is laughing as she moves to the other side of the arena, clicking through her photos.

"Damn it," I whisper to myself. She probably got me looking stupider than usual. I'll make her pay later.

The puck drops, and Keelan and the Avalanche team captain face off. Keelan wins the puck for our team, and the game gets going.

Already, the section behind the away team bench is going nuts. Our fans are known for getting rowdy and busting the other team's chops.

The puck quickly changes hands, and the Avalanche centerman comes straight for me with both my defensemen, Sincaid and O’Connor, getting blocked.

I take a deep breath and anticipate his moves, launching myself across the net to block the oncoming shot.

Saved.

The crowd goes wild, and the Heatwave takes control of the puck again.

I can see in my peripheral the opening and closing of a small section of the glass where Izzy is capturing photos. There are a few stations for the photographers, and I have them all memorized. It takes everything in me to stay focused and not get distracted by the thought of her watching me.

"Wooo! That's how we do it, boys!" Keelan is bouncing towards the locker room and can hardly contain his excitement.

We won 3-0, and I don't know if it was knowing that Izzy was watching the entire time, but I was on my A-game. I blocked 38 shots. Nothing made it past me. A shutout game. The first of the season.

The guys slap me on the back or rub my head as they make it past me. I stop at the locker room entrance, where Keelan is leaning on the door frame. He looks me up and down with his arms crossed and a red lollipop in his mouth.

"You played well, B."

"Thanks."

"Doesn't negate the fact that you're still on my shit list, but...you did good."

Wow. He really does have such a way with words.

"Heads up, your girl's coming," says Fergie from behind me, waving at Izzy coming down the hall.

I look at Keelan, who shakes his head and turns to his sister.

"Did you get my good side?" He throws a protective arm over her shoulders when she approaches.

"What good side? I'm a photographer, not a miracle worker."

"Ouch," Keelan grabs his chest in mock pain.

"Anyway, I only capture the players that actually make a dent in the game. Speaking of which, good job, Bear."

"Bear?" Keelan side-eyes me.

Fergie laughs, spitting out water from the bottle he just stuck in his mouth. "Balsy the Bear. I like it."

That's supposed to be between Izzy and me, but I know these guys. They're going to take it and run with it.

"Anyways," Keelan brings the attention back to himself. "We're all heading to the Breakaway. You coming, sis?"

Izzy looks at me and then back at the guys. And before she can answer, Coach Murray appears behind her.

"Way to go, Heatwave.” He pumps his fist. “That's what I'm talking about."

He swings an arm over Keelan and pulls him into the locker room. Fergie and I follow them in. "Teagan, you made us proud, son."

"Thanks, Coach!" Teagan gives him a salute from his place on the bench.

"A goal and two assists." Coach whistles in appreciation. "Not bad for your last game with us. And Balinger," he slow-claps, and the other players give their hoots and hollers of approval. "A shutout game. We're looking good, boys. Get showered. We're celebrating tonight!"

The guys pound on lockers and howl.

Yeah, there's no way they'll let me miss this outing. Not tonight.

Izzy snaps photos of us from the doorframe of the locker room and gives me a wink before disappearing into the hall. A few minutes later, I got a text.

Izzy: As much as I'd love to get some practice of my own tonight, you can't miss this celebration.

Me: If you come in wearing anything remotely close to what you wore last time I saw you there, I can't guarantee we won't get that practice in.

Izzy: Challenge accepted.

Fuck me. She's going to steal the show. I already know it.

Chapter 15

Izzy

Irap on Rina's open door.

"Come on in, Izzy," she says from behind her computer.

"Just want to make sure you got the files I sent over."

She nods, "Ah, yes. Yes, I did. Come, have a seat. I want to show you what we're working on."

I glance at my watch for a split second. It's nine. Working for a professional hockey team is so different from anything I've ever done. What normal person is still at the office at nine at night?

I drag the seat over from the corner of the room and check out the new team website.

"Woah!"

"Right?!” Rina beams. "Marketing just sent it over."

There on the front page of the website is a running slideshow of photos—my photos—featuring each of our players. They look fierce. The bright orange of the team colors looks bold against the black background of the website.

"You used my photos," I say, my voice low in appreciation.

"Of course we did," Rina smiles. "Izzy, I have plans for you. Listen, tomorrow I have a meeting with all the department heads regarding how we'll work with the boys to get the best exposure. I want you to be there. If we're going to turn this team around, we need all our best people."

"I'll be there," I tell her. I'm honored she even cares to ask.

"They've had a rough run," she says. "They've been last in their division for the past three years, and it's not all on them. They've had toxic leadership. Mack's doing her best to weed out the bad apples on staff. Amongst other changes."

"That's good. I think it needs to happen."

"It does. And I'm happy with the direction things are going. But one thing that is unique to my job is making sure that the public sees the boys in a positive light. And they can't do that if they never show their faces."

Oh, boy. I think I know where this is going.

"Is this about Ryker?"

She gives me another soft smile. "I know you don't want to mix business with your personal life."

Too late, Rina. Way too late.

"But," she continues. "He's the only one on the roster who refuses to be public. I understand he might have personal reasons, but the goaltender on any professional team is a crowd favorite. Fans fight for their goalies. They can't fight for someone they don't know."

Yep, I get it. Ryker's the opposite of an open book. I myself constantly wonder who this man is and why he does the things he does.

"You want my help to get him more in the public eye? That's no easy task, Rina. What if he just refuses?"

"Look, I can't force anyone to do anything that's not explicitly set out in their contract. And lucky for him, that wasn't a part of his deal when he signed on. But he'll be negotiating a new deal soon, and that will be a big part of it. For the sake of the team as a whole."

What is she trying to say?

"Could he—Rina, is he at risk of losing his position here if he doesn't get on board?"

She pushes her seat back and sits on her desk facing me with her hands folded together in her lap. "All I'm saying is that Mack needs everyone on the team to pull their weight. Ryker can't hide in the shadows when, as a team, we're all working to stand out. Not just in our division but in the entire league. We're done being overlooked. Not taken seriously. Don't you want to be a part of something great, Izzy?"

"Of course I do. But forcing someone to do something they're not comfortable with shouldn't be a requirement either. Ryker's amazing. Maybe even one of the best. You saw him out there." I motion toward the arena.

"He is. And I'm not negating that," she's stern but loses her edge when she says, "We want the same thing here, Izzy. All I'm asking is to try. Negative press. Ornery players. It's not going to help us pack out this place. The fans need heroes."

She's not wrong about that. I still remember watching my dad play. He was in the minor league and might've even made it all the way if he hadn't passed. But he was someone worth looking up to.

"Ok," I say. "I'll work with him. But I can't make any promises," I point to her.

She holds up her hands, showing me her palms, "I don't expect any."

She slides off her desk and shuts her laptop. "In the meantime, I believe you have a celebration you need to be at."

I stand, feeling a little on edge about our talk.

If Ryker being in the public eye will help this team, I'll do everything I can to make it happen. Besides, it's not like he hasn't agreed to help me with my own personal things.

"I'll see you in the morning," I say, walking out of her office. "'Night, Rina."

She follows me out and locks the door, "Goodnight, Izzy."

I go to my tiny work area at the far end of the arena, and she heads in the opposite direction. My workspace is basically a closet where I can keep my lenses and personal effects.

Gathering my things, I lose my train of thought when the door handle twists. A head of freshly washed blonde hair pokes in, and I meet familiar hazel-green eyes.

"You alone?" Ryker asks.

I look around my tiny space, "Nobody's hiding under my desk, so yeah, I'd say so."

He smirks and walks in shutting the door behind him, "Smartass."

"What are you doing here? I thought you were meeting up the guys at the..."

He waves it off and strides over to me, taking my face into his hands and looking down at me.

"I couldn't think of anything else today," he dips his head and brushes his lips against mine. "But the taste of you—riding my face—chasing your pleasure."

I feel my heart pound wildly in my chest. And I wonder if he feels it, too, because he moves his hand to my chest and places it there. "Well, you're very talented,” I murmur.

"Do you want your next lesson?"

The way his voice rumbles when he speaks. Whatever he's thinking—my body is already responding. I can barely speak above a shrill 'uh-huh.'

He chuckles and says, "Get on your desk, Wildfire."

Wait...here? He wants to do this here?

"Ryker," I protest. "We work here, we can't."

"Shhh." He brings a finger up to my lips. "Lesson number two, Wildfire. If you want to experience a heightened state of pleasure....up the ante."

He kisses my neck, and I melt into it. "Now, get on your desk before I put you there myself."

I don't know why I listen to him. Why I trust him the way I do. But I want nothing more than to accept what he's offering.

So I step back, strip out of my shirt, and kick off my shoes so that I can pull my pants down and kick them off, too. Now I'm standing before him in only my underwear.

He swallows hard but doesn't move. He only puts his hands in his pockets and cocks his head, watching to see what I'll do next.

And having his full attention does something to me. He has so much restraint. I want to push him. I want to see how far I can go before he loses it. So I reach forward and grab one of his arms, forcing a hand out of his pocket. I hold it up to my face using both hands, take his pointer finger, and draw it into my mouth.

He watches intently as I draw his long finger deep into my mouth. Sucking and running my tongue over it. Remembering what it was like when I took his cock in my mouth this same way.

I feel my nipples harden at the thought of feeling him again. And when I look down, I see his erection straining against his jeans.

I slowly look up at him, pushing his finger in and out of my mouth. And his jaw slacks slightly at the sight of it. The other hand is still in his pocket, but I can feel his body tense. Unable to stay in control.

I pop his finger out of my mouth and give it one more lick before he pulls out his other hand and brings them both to my ass as he lifts me up. I wrap my legs around his waist, and he kisses me. Deeply. Our tongues are in a wild fight for control.

He walks me to my desk and sets me on top of it, still kissing me.

But I pull away, lean back, and drag a foot up his body. He looks at me, confused, wondering what I'm about to do.

I reach down between my legs and dip a finger below my panty line.

His eyes are heated and don't move away from me.

Chapter 16

Ryker

Izzy pushes me gently with her foot on my chest, and I watch her with rapt attention.

"What are you doing?" I whisper to her because the vixen is drawing her finger up from below her waist and dragging it slowly up the curves of her body.

Everything in me is fighting to put my hands on her. And I can't care less if we're late to the party. Right now, I want whatever she's willing to give me.

She drags her finger over her navel, up between her breasts, over her slender neck, and right into her mouth. My cock jumps at the sight of her tasting herself. And I lose all control.

I lunge forward, putting my hands on either side of her on the desk, and draw her lips back to mine. This time, instead of pushing me away, she uses the heels of her feet to pull me closer to her.

"You are ridiculously tempting, Wildfire," I whisper into her ear.

A small, amused grin spreads across her beautiful face.

"That's the point, Goalie-zilla. Now, are you ready to up the ante?"

I look down at her, gauging her expression.

"Take your pants off," she orders me.

Of course, I want to. It would be impossible for me to resist her. But before I do, I reach behind her with one hand and unsnap her bra. The soft blue fabric falls onto her lap, and her strained nipples are now on full display for me. She looks down at herself and then back at me.

A challenge in her eyes.

I lean forward and take one of her breasts into my mouth.

Izzy throws her head back, letting out a deep moan as I bring her nipple to a hard peak with my tongue.

"Are you going to be quiet for me, Wildfire?"

She fights to keep her mouth closed. And instead, she licks her lips when I take in the second one, licking and sucking it into my mouth until they're both standing at attention. Then I reach down and slide her panties down her hips. She lifts up slightly to let me move them down past her thighs until they land on the floor.

"You tell me how far you want to take this," I say to her, kissing the inside of her thighs.

She opens them up for me and puts her hands on either side of my head, making me look up at her.

"I want you," she says. "All of you."

And I realize what she's saying. And we are most definitely not doing it here.

I rise and kiss her lips, "Then put your clothes back on. I'm taking you home."

"What? Ryker..."

"We're not doing this here, Izzy. You deserve better than this." I wave a hand around her closet-sized office.

I bend down, pick up her bra and panties, and place them on her lap.

"I'm going to go grab my gear. Get dressed and meet me at my car in five minutes."

Izzy's quiet on the car ride home. I reach over and grab her hand to intertwine our fingers.

"If you'd rather we don't..."

"No," she says quickly. "I want this. With you."

She looks over at me, and I swear those beautiful eyes can convince me to do anything.

"I need to talk to you about something," she says sheepishly.

"Uh-oh. Are we already having the DTR talk, Izzy? Because I'm pretty sure we both know what this is," I give her a smirk, and she slaps my arm.

"Not about us, per se. But about work."

I look over at her, confused. "What about work? Is it not what you expected?"

"Are you kidding me?" She says. "I love my job. Rina loves my work, and they're hoping to feature it on the website and in some of the marketing. I feel really good about it. But I want to ask you...." She hesitates.

"Spit it out, Wildfire," I urge her.

"Can I...take your picture?"

"My picture?" Like now? When we're alone. What is she talking about?

"You know what? I realize that sounded creepy. What I mean is... Can I take your picture and post it for you on social? I'll run your page. You don't even have to worry about that. I just need content, and it'll be like I'm not even there."

I'm sure she can see the look of confusion in the glow of the dashboard.

"Run my page?" I ask.

She lets out a deep sigh, "Okay, look. Rina mentioned to me that with the direction the team is going, they're going to need everyone to be on social media. She said something about fans wanting heroes."

I let a chuckle escape me. "Rina wants me to have a social media account? Is that right?"

"That's what she said, but in more words."

"She always has more words," I add.

"Ryker, I think this will be good for you. You have a reputation for being kind of an ass, and people will continue to think that until you give them something to love about you."

I consider it for a bit.

Something to love about me?

I like it better that people don't get a front-row view into my life. It keeps things simpler.

"What's in it for you?" I ask.

She bites her lip, "Well...it wouldn't hurt to push Trevor's buttons a bit."

"So, you're still interested in getting back at your ex?" I say, trying to hide the annoyance in my voice. But I fail miserably.

She hesitates a moment before she answers, "I almost married him, Ryker. I was going to be his wife. Then he goes and..." She just shakes her head.

Okay. Clearly still not over him.

But at what point will she open her eyes and realize that the man she thought she was going to marry just wasn't meant for her?

I feel my grip on the steering wheel tighten, and my knuckles turn white.

"Ryker?" Izzy says.

I look over at her, and she puts a hand on my forearm. It relaxes me. Even if just slightly.

I breathe out. "I knew it would take you some time. When I saw you crying in your room the first day you got here. I knew you were off-limits. And it wasn't just because of your brother," I admit. "But because when someone's heart is that shattered and that disillusioned, it takes something powerful to heal it. Sometimes, something you don't see coming."

Her eyes are wide, and even as I focus on the road in front of us, I can feel them on me.

"What shattered you?" She whispers, even though we're the only two people in the car.

I take a deep breath before expelling the air. "My family."

She nods, accepting the answer if it’s all I’m willing to give her. But I can tell she wants more.

"We were broken, Izzy. And one by one, I've lost them to something. Drugs, abusive men...prison," I look over at her to catch her reaction, but she doesn't move. Just watches me and waits for me to give her more.

"Anyway, that's why I'm not much of an open book. Hockey is my way to turn all that around. It's all I wanted. I mean, until you got here."

This woman's touch must be infused with truth serum by the way my words are just pouring out of me. She reaches for my hand and places it in her lap, intertwining our fingers again.

We're pulling up to the front gate of the neighborhood now, and I reach for the clicker above my head. Izzy chuckles next to me.

"You were such an ass," she says, smiling. "But the moment I saw you, I knew I was in trouble."

The gate opens, and I glance over at her. Our gazes hold each other, and I feel it. I feel it in my soul the moment we both realize we've become something more to each other.

I pull forward and weave down the long street to get to Keelan's house.

"You can take my picture," I tell her. She smiles even wider.

When we park in the curved driveway, she jumps out and goes to the hood of the car, pulling out her phone.

What the hell is she doing?

She looks back at me, phone in her hand, and waves me over. I get out but hesitate at the door of my car.

"Get over here!" She orders.

I shut the door and go to her. She pushes me onto the hood of my car and situates herself in front of me so that she's almost sitting in my lap, and lifts the phone up in front of us.

"Smile, Goalie-zilla. This one's for the fans." She snaps the picture, and I look at the phone as the flash goes off.

She leans into my touch and drops her hand just enough for me to reach for the phone, snatch it out of her hand, and position it in front of our faces. I pepper her neck with kisses as she flushes at the contact, and I snap a picture of us.

"And that one's just for me," I whisper into her neck.

She turns to face me from between my legs and wraps her arms around my neck. Her eyes rove over my face.

"What?" I ask.

"It's you. You're the thing I didn't see coming."

I pull her into me and take her lips to mine. Claiming her and tasting her. And even though I don't say it. It's true for me, too. She came into my world and, like a wildfire, swept through it. I could've run. I could've closed the door.

But instead, I let myself get consumed by her fire.

And now, it's all I want.

Chapter 17

Izzy

Ryker drops me on his bed, and I bounce slightly, unable to contain the giggle that erupts from me.

"You're sure about this?" He asks from the end of the bed.

I sit up to meet his gaze and nod as I say, "I am."

He bites on his bottom lip slightly before nodding and going to his dresser. He rummages through it for a bit before dropping his arm, defeated.

"What's wrong?" I ask him.

He turns to me, "I don't...I don't have any protection."

I mull it over for a second. "It’s okay."

He looks over at me.

"Ryker," I whisper his name and position myself at the end of the bed with an outstretched hand.

He comes to me and, standing in between my legs, looks down at me, takes my hand, and intertwines his fingers with mine. He takes the other hand resting on my thigh and does the same. Then he lowers his head and kisses me so gently.

"I've wanted you, Izzy. Since the first day we met." He raises both of my arms above my head and then reaches down to tug off my shirt.

"Why?" I ask, already knowing it's a stupid question.

He flings my shirt to the side and cups my chin so that I look right at him.

"Because whether you knew it or not, your very presence disrupted my life. Even more than the stupid hurricane. More than living with these idiots. It was you." He bends and kisses my neck. "Those sad eyes that called out to me even when you tried to ignore me."

"I could never ignore you, Ryker. You steal the air out of every room you're in."

He chuckles a deep, dark chuckle. "So you're going to blame your asthma attack on me now, huh?"

He drops his hand and reaches for my waist, hoisting me up and, taking my spot on the bed and placing me in his lap.

"I've seen men do awful things to the women they claim to love." The look on his face is solemn—like he went into some far recess in his mind for a split second before returning to me.

"You're not one of them," I say to him.

"No, I'm not," he admits. "And I never want to hurt you, Izzy."

"You won't," I say, wrapping my arms around his neck as he pulls me closer to him. "You're careful. Gentle. Protective. And I've never felt safer with someone in my entire life."

"But doing this—your first time. It won't feel great, Izzy."

I nod because I know as much. Just by hearing from friends and also my own curious research. Which is partly why I've never ventured to do more things.

"I trust you," I tell him. And he closes his eyes at my words.

I push off his lap and step out of my leggings and underwear. This time, I reach back and unsnap my bra.

I'm standing bare before him, warmed by how his eyes look at me. He catches a quick glimpse of my body but focuses on my face.

"Show me what does feel good, Ryker. Make me yours."

He rises, pulling off his own shirt and kicking his jeans to the side before sliding his boxers down and letting his erection spring forward. He's all muscle. A Greek god carved out of the finest stone. And we both stand a foot apart, staring at each other.

A battle of wills. Who will make the first move?

My heart rate spikes at how his hooded eyes take me in. And he steps forward and puts a warm hand on my chest.

"Breathe," he commands me. "I'm going to take care of you, Wildfire. So breathe."

I close my eyes and still my racing heart. I take deep breaths as I feel Ryker's lips on my forehead, grazing my cheeks and moving down to my neck.

I can't help the moan that escapes my lips. And in one quick motion, he lifts me, and I wrap my legs around his waist. His skin slides across my own, and he pushes me up against the wall just below the team photos I've hung.

My most recent work.

I hear the patter of paws leave the room and realize we've had an audience this entire time. But Wednesday quickly got the picture—no doubt, feeling the increased temperature of the room.

"How considerate of her," he says with a smirk, watching the dog escape to my room from the shared bathroom.

I kiss him. My big, bad Goalie-zilla, who has slowly wormed his way into my barely beating heart.

And he pushes his body even closer to mine. I feel the heat emanating from him. He takes both my arms and pins them above my head, taking in the look of surprise on my face before claiming my mouth as his own and ravaging me with his tongue. His rock-hard erection feels so good between my legs. I try rocking to get more friction.

This might just be the hottest I've ever felt.

"Ryker," I beg. His name a heavy plea as it leaves my lips.

"Uh-uh," he says, moving a hand down to my hips. I'm still pinned against the wall, held up by his sheer strength. “First, I'm going to make you come until you're screaming my name. Then, when you're nice and wet, Wildfire. I'm going to claim that delicious pussy."

I moan at his words. A promise.

"And I'll make sure you walk into that party dripping from me."

Oh...my...god.

It has to be 10,000 degrees here now because I can feel the sweat rolling down my back from pure anticipation. He peels me off the wall and sets me on the bed, with my head propped on his pillow. This time, he puts a warm hand on each of my knees and spreads them open. He looks at my center, and a dark look crosses his face.

"So wet for me already, Wildfire? You want me to fill you with my cock, don't you, baby?"

"Y-yes," I barely make it before he's bending to kiss my tender flesh between my legs.

I spread even wider for him. As he runs his tongue along my folds, a hum of approval rumbles through his chest.

"You taste like the sweetest fruit, Wildfire."

My hands move to either side of his face, and his tongue darts out and meets with the most sensitive part of me. He works it slowly, and I can feel my body react to his magic touch.

"Ryker," I whisper. "Oh."

"Mmm," he says from between my legs. "That's a good start, baby. But I want to hear you screaming my name."

And before I can say another word, he's back on my clit, working it with his tongue. Creating tantalizing circles and using the pressure my body craves. It's like he's reading my every movement--taking it in and giving back the answers to my silent pleas.

Just as I feel my release building, Ryker brings a hand down between my legs and rubs the wetness there at my entrance before slowly, ever so slowly, nudging a finger in. I gasp, and he stops right where he's at, lifting his head to me.

"Does that hurt?" his eyes are soft and full of love.

I shake my head.

"Tell me to stop if it does," he commands me.

And I put my hands on his head and force him back down to continue working his magic in response.

That chuckle of his rumbles through his chest again, and I tell him. "Don't stop."

He continues to push his finger in until I can feel his knuckles at my entrance.

"Breathe," he tells me from between my legs. And I do. I didn't even realize I hadn't been breathing as he moved inside me.

On my exhale, he slowly moves his finger out of me while his tongue continues its languid circles on my clit.

"Oh, wow. Mmmm," I can't even form proper words.

He does it again. Moving his finger in and out of me, slowly picking up speed as I start to rock into his push. It feels amazing. And I feel a desperate need to be filled by another part of him. I feel more pressure as he coaxes a second finger into me, and my body stretches to welcome him.

He's slow. Considerate. And still ravaging my clit and making unintelligible words leave my lips.

Then, I'm there. I can't take it. The scruff of his beard against my thighs, the tantalizing strokes of his tongue, and the pressure from his fingers inside me–I feel myself coming undone.

"Oh...my...oh, Ryker!" I scream out, bearing down on him. He continues his assault with his tongue, but I can feel myself squeezing tight around his fingers.

I rock onto his face, taking every little bit he gives me until I collapse—a puddle of skin on his bed. He kisses my thighs as he draws his fingers out of me.

"I love hearing you come, Izzy." His voice is husky. Sensual. And I already need more of him.

"Come here," I tug on his shoulders until he moves up to me. And his mouth meets mine.

I kiss him. Suck him, draw out his very breath, and I feel the pressure of his erection at my entrance.

He pulls back and looks down at me. "You're so beautiful," he says in awe.

I feel myself blush despite the already flush look I must be sporting after all that.

Then he flips onto his back and takes me with him, dragging me over him by my hips. From this angle, I'm on top. And I can appreciate those bunched muscles beneath me as I straddle him.

He places a thumb on my sensitive clit, and I jump slightly at the touch. But when he starts making circles, I can't help but move to the rhythm he's set.

'You are, too," I say, looking down at him. My body reacted to his touch by grinding onto him.

He chuckles again.

"Ride me, Wildfire. Do what feels good to you."

And I do. I rock my hips against his stiff cock. The wetness from my fold slicks him, and I move up and down over it. He closes his eyes but continues to circle my clit. Giving me even more pressure.

And I love it.

I throw my head back and move faster over him. Feeling the build-up again. And as I do, I force his hand away from my clit and move them to my hips. I lift up and notch his cock at my entrance. He looks up at me, a question in his eyes.

But I just look back at him and close my eyes as my body takes him in. Inch by Inch. It burns slightly. And I have to pause and try again as I stretch along his girth. But feeling this man inside of me is like something I could never have imagined.

He hisses out his pleasure when he's fully seated inside me, his hands holding tight to either side of my hips. I slowly rise off him and lower myself again. Feeling him fill me over and over.

"Iz-zy,' he hisses. And I know he's slowly coming undone.

I pick up speed. The burning subsides as my wetness makes it easier to take him each time. From this angle, I feel my clit rubbing against his pelvis, mixed with the sensation of having him fully inside me.

I want to burst, but I keep rocking on him until I'm shattering again. This time, a deep, lingering groan tears through me, and as I clench all around him, Ryker shouts his own release. In an instant, I feel the shot of his warmth release into me, his thumbs digging into my hips until he's let every drop out.

And I collapse onto his chest.

We're a pile of dewy skin and weakened limbs. He slowly withdraws from me and brings me into his side, taking my chin in his hand and making me face him.

"Are you ok, Wildfire?" The love in his eyes is everything I need.

I nod, a sated smile on my lips, and he kisses me.

'You can always take what you need, Izzy. With me. I'm just as much yours as you are mine."

And as he says those words, I know them to be true in the depths of my soul.

Chapter 18

Izzy

The cool air outside tonight is chillier than I expected it to be. Keelan calls it a "false fall". It'll be back in the 90s by next week, which is why I'm sitting at this bar in the tiniest of dresses.

Well, that, and mostly to drive Ryker crazy. What kind of fake girlfriend would I be if I didn't? Though, after what we just did...I'm not even sure that can be true anymore.

Justin slides over my usual and gives me a wink.

"Your man had quite a game today," he smiles.

"Excuse me? My man?"

How could Justin, the bar owner, possibly know about Ryker and me? The team hadn't made any official statements.

Was it that obvious?

"I'm sorry, I guess I just assumed you and Balinger were—"

"Oh, we are," the husky voice comes from behind me, making every hair on my body stand on end. I turn to see Ryker's dangerous eyes staring down at me.

"I thought I told you not to poke the bear," he says in a low growl, turning me on the bar stool to face him.

"And I thought I told you, you can't tell me what to do."

He hums and leans into me, our faces inches from each other as he whispers into my ear, "You didn't seem to mind it so much earlier."

Touché.

I did like it when he told me what to do...in his bed. Things like "ride me" and "scream my name." He's not wrong about that.

And now, the thought of being alone with him again is overwhelming. I want nothing more than to feel those lips on mine—sweeping over my body tenderly. And him ravishing me in ways I could only imagine.

"Ryker 'The Bear' Balinger!" Fergie's voice comes from behind him.

I hear Ryker let out a growl, clearly annoyed by the interruption. But he straightens up and leans on the bar next to me as Fergie approaches.

"Or we can go back to Balsy. I actually prefer it," Fergie says, slapping Ryker's back. "So this is like the real deal?" He motions between Ryker and me.

"Yes, Michael. Why wouldn't it be?" I ask him, taking a sip from my mocktail and looking towards Ryker, who places a hand on my bare shoulder.

"It's just kind of fast, don't ya think?"

"Define fast, Fergie?" Ryker challenges. "From what I recall, you and your last tinder-rella didn't waste any time making things official just before she separated you from half your earnings last year."

I look at Fergie with brows furrowed. "Is that why you're at Keelan's halfway house for troubled hockey boys?"

Fergie sticks his tongue out at us and chooses to order a drink instead of engaging.

"Smart move," Ryker says under his breath.

"If this is how you treat your friends, I'd hate to see you around your enemies," I sip my drink playfully, eyeing him.

The rest of the team makes their way to the bar. Teagan is in the middle of the crowd. And the newest team member trails behind them. They all look like they're already a few shots in.

"Looks like you're about to find out, Wildfire," he motions toward the group, then whispers softly, "Wanna give him something to really be mad about?"

My eyes are facing forward. "You talking about Keelan or..."

"Not Keelan," Ryker clarifies. "Though he's not too happy about this either."

My dear brother. Always looking out for me. He probably has more to do with me being a virgin for so long than anything else. Since I was little, he was telling me that dudes are not worth it. That they were only after one thing. So I learned if they wanted me, they'd have to fight for me. Most couldn't hack it.

And Trevor definitely made it known to me that he wasn't happy about my decision to withhold from having sex. The ultimate way was, well, when he screwed my friend.

The thought sends a fire into my stomach, and I can't believe the visceral reaction I still get from it. Ryker notices my body tense and starts massaging my neck. Then he leans down and places a kiss right where the tension is building. It's soft and sensual and sends a bolt of electricity straight through my body.

I close my eyes and let it sink in.

The feel of his lips on my skin and the way my body reacts to him is so stimulating. When I open my eyes, I see Trevor staring right at us. Then he looks away when he catches me staring back.

Fergie grabs the beers he's ordered and takes one to Teagan, who's already dancing. They clink, and the guys form a circle around him as they cheer for their soon-to-be former teammate.

My eyes are on the team the entire time, and I don't even notice when Rina slips onto the barstool next to me.

"Gotta love a good celly night," she says as she waves down Justin for a drink.

I turn to her, startled. "Hey! I wasn't expecting to see you out tonight."

"Eh, I usually stay away from potential PR nightmares like these, but it seems as good a time as any to join in on the fun."

Justin comes by to take her order.

"Whiskey. Neat," she purrs.

He gives her a nod and fetches her drink.

"He's cute," she whispers to me when he's out of earshot.

I giggle. She has her hair down for the first time since I've met her. And, of course, she's dressed to the nines—Femme fatale with a tight black dress and strappy four-inch heels. I can't help but think we look like sisters.

Ryker lets out another disapproving growl beside me.

"Down, boy," I whisper from the side of my mouth. "Justin's harmless."

"I'll let you two girls have your time," he says, shooting me a death glare.

Jealous much?

I bat my lashes at him as he grabs his water and stalks over to his teammates.

"So, how was it?" Rina asks. At first, I wonder if she's asking about Ryker and me or…

"Your first real game shooting the boys, right?" she clarifies.

"Oh," a nervous laugh escapes me. She means work. "Exhilarating, there's no chill the whole time."

She smirks. "You got some pretty great shots. Couldn't help but notice you favored a certain... goalie."

"I mean, he did give us quite a game."

"He did," she agrees.

Justin presents her drink, and she nods her approval. "Thank you, sugar."

"My pleasure, beautiful, " he smiles at her and crosses the bar to take another customer's order.

I'm sure the Thunder god gets gawked at regularly from this side of the bar. Must suck to be so gorgeous.

"Too bad I can't get an order of him on the rocks," Rina says huskily as she takes a sip.

She swivels in her barstool so we're both facing the team.

Keelan keeps glancing over in our direction, and at first, I think he's looking out for me, but then I notice it's not me he's looking at. It's Rina.

I look over at Rina, who tucks a loose strand behind her ear and then sweeps her eyes across the bar, completely unbothered.

My sister senses are tingling. But I don't know if I dare ask my new boss the question that's bubbling up in my chest. I'll have to wait to word vomit my thoughts on Keelan later when he's alone.

But...there's no harm in baiting.

"How's it been for you? Taking over after the last PR stink fest?"

"Ugh," Rina leans back, already exhausted by the thought. She crosses one long leg over the other, causing her dress to hitch up.

A few of the guys are looking our way as they chat. Ryker and Keelan among them.

"It's been an absolute shitshow. I mean, the man left the team a wreck media-wise. To have to come in and clean up his mess. I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy. Not to mention, he was an absolute pig." She whispers that last part.

At work, Rina is all business. But here, with her hair down, she seems almost friendly. I feel comfortable going in for the kill.

"Isn't it annoying how guys can get away with being dicks for so long just because, well, they have dicks," Rina continues.

"We live in an unjust world. Our only retribution being that we get the eye candy that is the Houston Heatwave to look at all day. Is it tough working with such a hot group of guys all day, every day?" I smile.

Rina stops mid-sip and looks over at me. Shit. I said something crass. I knew it was too much.

"Considering it's my job to avoid a PR disaster, I'm not going to answer that the way I'd like."

"Off the record?" I say.

"Off the record...I have my moments that I enjoy the view," she smirks, and we're back to let-loose Rina.

Phew.

"Anyone of them in particular?" I push again.

Rina and Keelan are making eye contact from across the room. I can feel the palpable energy between them.

Am I the only one who sees this?

Ryker's voice from last week comes to mind.

"Don't worry about Rina," he said.

Why would he say that unless he...

He knows something!

Oooh, this is going to be good. Keelan is so high and mighty. I'm about to find out what's really going down.

"I prefer to stay out of trouble when it comes to the team. You, on the other hand. You just jumped right in with both feet, didn't you?"

Ok, now she's turning it back on me. I'll bite, Rina Lopez.

"Can you blame me? Ryker's..." Annoying. Intimidating. An absolute god of a man.

"Something." She finishes for me.

The man is sitting with a few guys at a pub table. He's drinking his water and glaring at me while the others are slamming shots.

"Yeah, he's definitely something,” I say.

"Doesn't help that you're living in the same house, too. That's gotta be wild for a new relationship."

"It's temporary," I assure her. "Just 'til I get back on my feet. Besides, he has a place. It's just under renovation for now."

It's the truth, but the thought of Ryker moving out actually makes me sad. I want to be near him. I want to keep holding onto this pretend situation as long as I can. Surprising since I didn't want it to begin with. I guess life has a way of spinning us out like that.

"Well, to temporary situations," Rina lifts her glass to mine.

"And hopefully, not so temporary ones too." I clink with hers.

"Amen, sister," she says, finishing off her drink and waving down Justin again.

"Another round for me and my friend here, sugar."

Justin smiles and gets us another order. If Justin keeps serving these diet cokes, I won't be drunk leaving here, but I will have to pee.

And I might just have a new friend, too.

Chapter 19

Ryker

"What do you think they're talking about?" Keelan asks from behind me.

I turn to look at him. He's spoken a total of ten words to me since he found out about Izzy and me being a thing.

Well, a fake thing.

Whatever the hell this thing is—he doesn't like it, and he's made that clear.

"Are we back on talking terms because of my shutout game?"

Keelan slaps me on the back and shakes my shoulder loose.

"Oh buddy, we are far from it. But I'll take some baby steps. I still think you're a dick for betraying my trust."

"I didn't..."

"Na-ah, you're still on my shit list, remember?"

Trevor lets out a big laugh from the pub table next to us. It's boisterous and annoying, and I really just want to shove my fist into his rookie face. But from the looks of it, Keelan feels the same.

"Lucky for you, I got someone higher up on that list to deal with," he finishes, dropping his hand from my back.

"What are you thinking?" I ask, intrigued and slightly terrified by his unhinged smile. I’m nervous that our team captain might wind up in jail tonight. "Kee?"

"I got an idea," he says, nodding like he just consulted with the board of directors inside his wild mind.

My friend might just be a little bit crazy.

It's almost midnight, and the bar has turned into a nightclub like it does most nights. The lights are dimmed with flashing colors from the DJ booth, making it nearly impossible to see clearly. Combined with the pulsing music, it’s all making my head spin, and I'm not even drinking.

I glance at Izzy and Rina to ensure Thor isn't around to bother them. He's on the other end of the bar filling orders.

Good.

The music suddenly gets loud, and "Ante Up" by MOP and Funkmaster Flex blasts from the sound system.

I see Izzy's head drop, and she shakes it, covering her eyes and turning towards the bar like she's trying to disappear. Rina is holding her side and leaning on Izzy, uncontrollably laughing.

Some of the guys at the table behind me say, "What the fuck?"

But a few of us know exactly what's about to go down.

I turn towards the DJ to see Keelan on the stage wearing his cap turned backward, and he's rocking from side to side with his arms crossed over his chest, shoulders high like he's ready for a fight.

The DJ comes onto the mic. "Okay, everybody listen up. We got a dance battle going down tonight. Give it up for the Houston Heatwave's very own starting center, Ke-ee-la-an La-an-dry!"

The crowd goes wild, and Keelan starts pounding his chest like a gorilla that just escaped the zoo.

"Oh boy." I might need something stronger than water.

"Keelan, who do you call to do battle, sir?" DJ Nova passes him the mic.

Keelan shouts from his position on the stage, "I call forth..." he pauses, "The rookie defenseman, Trevor Sincaid."

Trevor is just a few feet behind me, so I can hear his "Fuck that. I'm not going up there."

But Teagan and O’Connor are already pushing him towards the stage.

"This is ridiculous," he shouts. "Landry, I'm not battling you."

Keelan grabs the mic from DJ Nova and yells, "Like hell you are!"

He jumps from the stage theatrically, and the crowd parts to give them room. Before I know it, Keelan is going into a full-on "You've got served" dance battle routine. He's throwing his arms and stomping his legs and is surprisingly coordinated for a guy who's probably had a few drinks already.

Sincaid gets pushed to the center of the circle and throws his hands up, unsure of what to do. The boys are yelling at him to do something.

"Don't be such a pussy," Hicks calls out to him.

Finally, he shakes his head and decides to do a move that resembles him mowing a lawn.

The crowd boos. And it goes back to Keelan, who is now on the floor doing 'the worm' and shocking the hell out of everybody.

The cheers start up again.

Keelan stands and throws it back to Sincaid, who makes some pathetic excuse for the wave with his arms.

"Laa-aame!"

"You suck!" The guys heckle him.

Sincaid gives up and throws his hands down like he's over it, and the crowd goes crazy over Keelan.

A few of the guys grab Keelan by the legs and hoist him up into the air, cheering. I forgot what a good dancer Keelan is.

"Oh no, that's not it, folks. We have another competitor being called to battle. Keelan, our champion, who else do you call forth?"

Keelan jumps up on the stage and grabs the mic, his breath erratic, "I call forth...the Heatwave starting goalie!"

Um, what?

The guys go wild around me.

"Oh, no...I don't—"

They're already pushing me out of my barstool and towards the center of the dance floor.

DJ Nova is back on the mic. “Ryker Balinger, you have been served, sir!"

Fuuuck.

I get tossed into the lion's den by my own teammates, and the song changes to "Bad Blood" by Taylor Swift. I roll my eyes at my friend's audacity.

"Really?" I mouth to Keelan.

But he's already gearing up, doing some crazy footwork. I stand there with my arms crossed, probably looking more like an idiot than Keelan right now. He's doing a windmill right in my face, and his legs almost hit me before he lands perfectly back on his feet and strikes a pose, throwing it to me.

"No," I tell him.

"Do it, B," Keelan's eyes have that crazy look in them, and I seriously wonder how the hell I got myself involved with a friend who is this ridiculous.

"I don't dance. You know this," I stay firmly in place.

He gets closer to me so only I can hear him, " You want to date my sister? You gotta dance with me first!"

"What? That doesn't even make any—"

"Do it, B. You want to get off my shit list?"

I shake my head. This is unbelievable. The crowd behind me starts heckling.

"Don't let the people down, man." Keelan is dancing circles around me. Moonwalking.

The asshat.

I'm about to give in when a small tug on my arm gets my attention.

"I got this," Izzy says, stepping in front of me. Her tiny frame acted as a barrier between me and her insane brother.

"What are you doing?"

"This is between me and my brother, Goalie-zilla."

What the hell is wrong with these two!?

She pushes me back and stands in front of her brother with her arms crossed over her chest, the same way I was.

He's still dancing around like a lunatic, and she starts cracking her neck.

Hicks is at the DJ booth shouting something at DJ Nova.

"She's what?" Nova comes back on the mic. Hicks shouts again. "Oooh! Things just got real. Looks like Keelan Landry is being challenged by his very own flesh and blood, folks. A Landry vs. Landry showdown!"

"Holy shit!" Fergie is going wild behind me. Beer goes flying into the air from all around.

Surely, Thor's not going to like this.

Izzy and Keelan are now face to face, dancing like warriors gearing up for battle. I haven't seen a crowd go this crazy at any of our games.

The Landrys sure have a way of revving a crowd up.

The two of them are in sync, toprocking and battling it out in front of the entire club.

At one point, they're doing the exact same moves at each other, and it looks like they've practiced it for years. It goes from a battle to a choreographed dance that they are fully enjoying.

"Now we got pro-blems, and I don't think we can so-olve 'em..."

The crowd is singing along as the two blow it up on the dance floor. When the chorus comes back the entire club joins them, everyone pumping their arms to the catchy song. And at the end, everyone bursts into cheers.

What the hell just happened?

Rina is next to me, sipping on her drink. Watching the siblings like I am.

"Some things never change, do they?" Her eyes don't leave him.

Keelan and his dance battles are something we saw pretty often in college, and Rina is no stranger to them.

"You'd think he'd grow out of it by now," I say, shaking my head.

"Nah, you give him too much credit. Keelan Landry will always be a man-child."

I look at her, and there's a sadness to her words. But before I'm able to say anything, Izzy is bouncing into my arms.

"Aren't you glad I saved you from an embarrassing fate?"

"My hero," I nuzzle her neck, and she's hanging onto me.

Trevor is sitting at the table next to us.

She pecks my lips to make sure he sees it and then announces, "Come on, Rina. I need to go to the little girl's room."

Izzy grabs Rina, adrenaline clearly running through her veins, and drags her along towards the restrooms. Keelan is back from dancing with his adoring fans.

"You're lucky you had a stand-in. Sincaid just has to take the L," he says over his shoulder.

Sincaid jumps off his barstool and squares up, shouting, "I know what you're doing, Landry. But you and your whore of a sister can stop trying to ruin my life here."

Keelan and I both turn at the same time to face each other.

"What the fuck did he just say?" Keelan asks me.

I shake my head, and without even thinking, I turn and sock him right in the fucking nose. Blood goes flying everywhere, and he doesn't hesitate to throw a punch back.

But I'm not done. I keep pummeling him until he's on the ground, and he's screaming for me to get off of him. I can vaguely hear shouts around me, but I see red.

The lights come on, and the music stops, and the only thing that makes me stop is Izzy's voice.

"Ryker! Enough!"

Chapter 20

Izzy

Rina pulls her carry-on down the center aisle of the plane. How the woman can wear four-inch heels even on travel day is beyond me.

I've opted for a seat in the very back near the restroom, away from most of the team. My brother included.

"You hoping to be the last one off the plane or something?" She asks, bending down to pick up her bag and stow it away above us.

I give her the shrug of my shoulder as a response.

The players are filing in one by one in their suits behind her. They all look so dashing. I look back down at the open book in my lap. Not that I'm reading. My mind is way too distracted for that.

It's been a week since the incident at Justin’s bar.

The next morning, news of the Heatwave players getting into a public brawl hit the stations. Ryker being named as the aggressor. Rina tried her best to spin it, but the amount of fans there with their live video feeds only flamed the chaos.

NHL's bad boys club has a new ring leader—Ryker Balinger read one of the headlines.

I keep seeing the look on his face while he practically pummeled Trevor.

Rina sits next to me and opens up her messages, typing away like she does all day.

"How is he?" I ask. “Trevor.”

My heart is still in a battle between freakin Trevor deserves what he got but is also upset that Ryker got himself suspended for the next eight games. And that was the league going easy on him.

Over what? A stupid comment?

Rina shakes her head. "Doc says he should be good to play again by the time we get back. Ryker did a number on him. They’re calling him the ‘Off-ice Enforcer.’ Not a great look."

My phone dings in my pocket and it startles me since I thought I put it in airplane mode.

Ryker: You're avoiding me.

Ryker: We should talk.

I left in a rideshare service early this morning before anyone was up. I've been keeping to myself since the incident. I don't want to be the reason anyone's career is in trouble. And so far, since arriving, I've done nothing but cause problems.

I don't answer. Instead, I put the phone in the seatback pocket in front of me. I don't know what to say to him. We already fought. He already told me what happened. Keelan corroborated his story, and still, I don't know why I feel like I need to stay away.

Rina finishes typing an email and puts her phone away, too. She looks over at me. "Wanna talk about it?"

I roll my head back and look at her. "Am I an idiot?"

"What?" Her brows cinch together.

"Seriously, I promised myself I'd never get involved with another player, and then I go and do the very thing I set out not to do. Am I an idiot?"

A soft smile spreads across Rina's face. "You are human, Izzy. And it's basically a law of the universe that when you say you're not going to do something, everything conspires to make it come true."

She sighs, and her eyes shoot up just as Keelan is making his way down the aisle. He stops a few rows in front of us, sets his things down, takes his suit jacket off, and hangs it over the empty seat next to him.

He looks at us with a half-smile and takes his place near the window.

Rina shakes her head softly like she's trying to get a thought out of her mind. I lean in close to her.

"Spill."

Her eyes widen and she looks at me, studying me for a split second.

"I'd rather not."

"Rina, something went down between you and my brother. I can see it written all over you and him. So spill. How do you know each other?"

She looks around frantically and then grabs the safety instruction booklet in front of her and gazes lazily through it. I snatch it out of her hand.

"Izzy!"

"Spill," I whisper sharply.

"Fine! We....slept together," she says practically under her breath.

I take the booklet I just stole from her and use it as a fan.

"Whaaaat?" I say as quietly as I can. Looking from the back of my brother's head and back to her.

She snatches the booklet back and uses it as a fan, too, as if the temperature on the plane just increased by a few hundred degrees.

"How long ago?"

"Long enough," she says.

"Bullshit. How'd you meet?"

She drops her fan and runs a hand over her face.

"I'm going to find out,” I say. “Either from you. Or from Keelan....something tells me Ryker knows."

She lets out a breath. "If I tell you, you have to promise me you will never bring it up to anyone ever again. Do you understand?"

The boss is back. And I get the feeling that if I don't agree, I might actually lose my shot at a full-time gig here.

I pinch my thumb and forefinger together, sliding them across my lips and throwing away an invisible key.

"I mean it, Landry."

"So do I," I say, pulling my feet up and tucking them under me as we both look around to make sure nobody is close enough to hear our hushed whispers.

"We met in college."

My brother has ten years on me. So that means she and him are around the same age.

"O-kay," I press her.

"I was studying marketing, and he was dating my best friend at the time."

I raise an eyebrow in interest.

"It wasn't anything like that," she assures me.

"Go on," I urge her.

"He was dating my best friend. She was on the dance team, and he was the team captain. Your typical college power couple. Your brother was as cocky as they come."

"Hmm, sounds about right."

"Well, two showmen in a relationship isn't always the healthiest. My best friend dumped him and moved on to someone who could give her the spotlight. Keelan then set his sights on her nerdy best friend.”

“Omg...that’s you! You’re the nerdy best friend.”

Rina chuckles. “Yes, Izzy. I was absolutely drab in college.”

“There’s no way,” I retort. “You’re a fashion icon.”

“Not back then, I wasn't." She proceeds to pull out her phone and scroll back. Way back. And the picture of the hazel-eyed girl with giant glasses, hair in a messy bun, and sweats looks nothing like the powerful woman holding the phone.

"Woah," I breathe out.

"Anyways, it was like a game for him. To see if he could win me over. But I wasn't just some game he could win. Not easily, anyway. Until—"

"Do either of you have a power bank? My phone's almost dead," Keelan's voice disrupts us from the center aisle.

We both look up at him, horrified.

"Uh, no...I don't," says Rina, absolutely flustered.

"Here," I say, reaching into my bag.

"Sir, you're going to have to take your seat. We're getting ready for takeoff," one of the flight attendants says from behind him.

"Yep, just one sec, sweetie," he says with a wink, and the woman blushes before turning and scolding some of the other guys for not having their seat belts on.

Rina scoffs, "Oh my god."

"What?" Keelan says to her. "Not too fond of me calling girls, sweetie. Sweetie?"

Rina makes hurling noises. And seeing them banter like this for the first time has me spinning.

My boss and my brother...have had sex!

I finally fish out the battery pack and toss it into Kee's waiting hands.

"Call Ryker," he says to me before turning around and heading back to his seat.

Rina looks at me, puzzled.

"Yeah, suddenly Kee's on board with us being a thing," I say, shuffling uncomfortably in my seat. "I don't understand men sometimes. I'm off limits to any of his friends until one of them beats up a fellow teammate defending my honor, and now Ryker can do no wrong."

"Men," we both say with twinning eye rolls.

"Anyway, back to your story," I turn it back to her.

But before she can say another word, Keelan drops his bag into the row of seats in front of us.

"What do you think you're doing?" Rina says in disgust.

"Your power bank is dead," he tosses it back to me, and I fumble to catch it.

"And this aisle has a plug, your Royal Highness. So, you know. Hi. I sit here now."

Rina practically burns holes in the back of his head once he turns back to his phone.

"Later," I say to her.

She shakes her head and flips his jacket that he draped across the seat in front of her. It falls to the seat next to him, and he looks at it and puts it back.

"Not a word," she reminds me.

I just chuckle. I can actually see them. The jock and the nerd battling it out on their college grounds. Until one day they just give into their mutual attraction.

The flight attendants ask for our attention as they give the safety brief and all three of us put on headphones.

We've all flown enough in our lives that the droning on of the safety brief is like white noise.

I think about Ryker. Sitting at home. Not on this plane where he should be. He was missing this game and the next seven. For me. I shouldn't be falling for him. I shouldn't be proud of him for what he did. But I'd be lying. Just like Rina is right now. Fighting her attraction to the boy who never grew up.

She glances sidelong periodically from behind him. And I see it written there.

Longing.

Ignoring the instructions to put all electronics in airplane mode. I type out a quick text to Ryker while I still can.

"Ma'am, please put all electronics in airplane mode." The command is directed at me.

"Yes, right. Sorry about that." I switch it while the persistent attendant watches me from the aisle. When she's pleased, she takes her seat at the back of the plane and straps in for takeoff.

I hope Ryker sees my text. I hope he knows I mean what I said.

And with that thought still in my mind, the familiar humming of the plane's engines has me lulled into a deep sleep almost instantly.

I'm jolted awake by the feeling of turbulence.

“Attention all passengers. The captain has turned on the fasten seat belt sign," says a voice on the intercom. "Please remain in your seats at this time. We've hit some turbulence and may have to re-route due to the weather."

I look to my side. Rina's gone.

Another jolt. And voices ahead of me sound startled, too.

"Kee, you still asleep?"

No response.

"Kee?" I lean forward to see if my brother is passed out. But he's also not there.

Then I see him appear behind me. Followed closely by a very flushed-looking Rina.

They make their way to their seats without saying a single word. Neither of them looked at me.

Rina makes quick work of fastening her seat belt and quickly fixes her hair. I have to be blushing for them. Why else would they both be at the back of the plane? At the same time. Looking equally flushed.

Rina and the flight attendant exchange glances as she hustles back to her jumpseat behind us and buckles up again.

Another major jostle.

This time, it feels like we've dropped suddenly. All thoughts of my brother and Rina joining the mile-high club vanish as my breath catches in my throat.

Rina's eyes are closed shut. Her hands wrapped so tightly around the handles on either side of her that they go white.

"You ok?" Keelan asks from in front of me.

"Yeah, some storm we must be passing through." I open my window to see dark, billowing clouds all around us. The window is being pelted.

"Don't planes usually fly over storms?" I ask him.

But he can't answer me because there's a loud bang at the front of the plane as light from outside blasts. The lights flicker in the cabin.

There are gasps and hollering from the guys ahead of us—all the heads on the plane popping up. Three high and low chimes ring out in the cabin, followed by the captain's voice over the intercom.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is your Captain speaking. We need to prepare for an emergency landing. Your crew is fully trained to handle this situation. We have approximately two minutes to prepare for landing. Your undivided attention is very important."

The voice coming through the speakers is so calm I think I might've misheard him.

"Did he say emergency landing?!" I cry out.

The flight attendant goes down the aisle, instructing us to put away any loose items and to tuck our heads into our knees and cover our necks.

Oh my god. OH MY GOD. We're crash landing?! There's no way. This cannot be real.

"Keelan," I say his name with a shaky voice.

"It's okay, Iz. We're going to be ok."

"How could you say that? Oh my god, Keelan. I'm not ready to die."

Keelan huffs out and unbuckles his seat belt as soon as the flight attendant is far enough away. He moves quickly and presses past Rina to sit in the empty seat between us. Rina still hasn't opened her eyes. But Keelan quickly buckles his belt and takes our hands into his.

"It's going to be ok," he says again. So confident. So sure.

"Keelan," I cry.

"It's ok, Izzy. Breathe."

But I can't. I'm having a panic attack. My lungs are closing in.

I can't breathe.

"Is she ok?" Rina says next to him.

“No. Izzy. I need you to look at me. Look at me, baby sis," he inhales deeply. Releasing Rina's hand so he can take both of mine. “Breathe, Izzy," he instructs.

And as if the captain himself hears me losing my breath, the oxygen masks drop in front of us.

I jump.

Ignoring all the instructions we've been given over the years to put your mask on first before helping someone, Keelan grabs my mask and secures it over my head with a quick tug. Then he turns to Rina, who is fumbling with her own mask from the nerves.

They look at each other for a quick beat.

So many unspoken things moving between them. He leans forward and kisses her before placing the mask over her mouth and securing it, too.

She reaches for his and hands it to him. And if I wasn't already struggling for air in my lungs, I'd be in tears over what I just witnessed.

This can't be it. This can't be how we go.

"Brace yourself," Keelan's muffled voice commands from behind his mask. His wild eyes volley between Rina and me to make sure we oblige.

The plane dips again, and I feel my stomach in my throat.

Breathe, Izzy. Breathe.

But it's not Keelan's voice in my head calming me.

Look at me. Follow my breathing. Breathe, Izzy.

My eyes are closed. My body folded over my seat as the rest of the plane went silent.

And it's Ryker's voice I hear in my head.

Breathe, Izzy.

The plane dips.

Breathe for me.

Breathe for me.

Breathe.

Chapter 21

Ryker

"Sir, you can't go in there."

"Like hell!" I roar to the nurse at the station.

"Sir!" she yells at me.

But it's too late. There's nothing that will stop me from seeing her.

Room 707.

My angel's room.

I barge in, and there she is, her black hair splayed out over the pillow underneath her. There's an oxygen mask over her face. The machines are chirping next to her. I look wildly for her blood pressure—heartrate—O2 levels.

All stable.

She's ok. My girl is ok.

"Sir, I need you to go back to the waiting room," the nurse catches up to me.

She's ok. Izzy is ok. I run a hand over my face. If I weren't so wired at the moment, I might actually cry from relief.

The second I got the text from Izzy, I looked for a flight to meet her in Philly. But then the news of the team plane going down broke. And everything in me shattered. I couldn't get to her fast enough.

I needed to see for myself.

"Why is her head bandaged?" I demand.

"The doctor will only release information to the next of kin, sir. I'm sorry, but who are you?"

"I'm her boyfriend. Tell me," It comes out like thunder. I don't mean to yell, but they've kept me waiting long enough.

"Ryker?" Fergie's voice calls from down the hall. His arm is waving from another room.

"Sir, you have to—"

"I know. I know," I say, brushing past her to meet up with Ferguson.

Keelan is lying in the bed. Rina is by his side. Hicks is on the far side with his arm in a sling.

"Fuck." The word falls out of me.

They all have gashes and bruises. But they're ok.

Keelan is sitting up in his bed. "Welcome to the party, B. You missed one hell of a ride."

I could kill him. I could actually strangle the man for being so nonchalant about this entire situation while I feel like my entire life has gone up in flames for the last four hours.

'They won't tell me anything about Izzy," I get out. "Only next of kin."

"What?" His brows furrow, and he moves to push the blankets aside.

"What are you doing?" Rina asks, alert and concerned.

"I'm going to see my sister," he says like it's the most natural thing in the world.

"Keelan, your leg is broken," she reminds him.

"It's what?" I say, looking between all of them.

"He shattered his tibia on impact."

"It's not shattered," he says, wincing as he moves. The giant cast encasing his leg slides slowly to the edge of the bed.

"How exactly do you plan on getting up, Landry?" Rina's eyebrow shoots up.

And Keelan resigns, dropping his bed back onto his pillow. "She's ok, B,” he says. “She hit her head on the window. She was lightheaded from an asthma attack. Couldn't think straight."

"Jeezus. Where was her fucking inhaler? I've told her a million times she needs to keep that close by..."

"Calm down, Daddy B. Izzy's tough. She's ok."

I look at Rina, who nods in agreement.

"I need to be with her."

Keelan reaches to the call button at his right and a nurse appears in the doorway almost immediately.

"Room 707," Keelan says. "She's my sister. This is Ryker Balinger, her boyfriend. He's going to be with her in my place since—" he motions to his leg.

The nurse, the same one who had been scolding me looks from me to Keelan and then back to me, "Fine. Come with me."

"I'm coming too," says Hicks next to me.

"Me too," says Fergie.

I look at them both incredulously.

"At least until she wakes up," Fergie insists. "Then she's all yours. But we're all roomies. And roomies need to stick together.”

Hicks beams. The cut above his chin stretches out.

"I'll be there in a minute," Rina calls behind them.

"What am I, chopped liver? A man has a career-ending injury, and it's the new kid on the block that gets all the attention?"

"I think you'll be fine," I call out to Keelan as I follow the already impatient nurse back to Izzy's room with my caravan of Heatwave players.

"You can't all be in he—"

"We're brothers," the boys say at the same time.

Nurse Janice, as her nametag states, is fed up with our group already and throws her hands up as she stalks away from the door.

"All yours," she says to a woman in a white coat approaching.

"You must be Izzy Landry's family. Please come in."

We pile into her small room. The three of us all take up the majority of the empty space. The petite doctor approaches Izzy's still-sleeping frame and checks her vitals.

"Isabella has suffered what we call an anoxic brain injury. During the time of the crash, the brain was starved of oxygen, and upon impact, she received what looks to be a mild to moderate concussion."

I don't know anything about what happens to your brain if it's starved of oxygen, but I can imagine the concussion. It's common in our line of work. And depending on the severity, it can sometimes have irreversible effects.

"What are we looking at for recovery?"

"Well, mister...."

"Ryker. Just, Ryker."

"Alright, Mr. Ryker. We'll need to keep Isabella here for observation. She's currently in a medically induced coma to keep the swelling in her brain to a minimum. Once we've seen some improvement, we'll be able to take her off the machines and have her breathe on her own."

"Will she...will she be, ok, doc?" My voice cracks slightly, and I curse internally for almost breaking.

Fergie's hand lands supportively on my shoulder.

"Like I said, we won't know the full extent of her condition until the swelling goes down, but that might be a few days."

A few days. A few months. I didn't care.

The entire Heatwave starting lineup will be replaced with our subs for the foreseeable future. And I wouldn't leave my girl's side until she walked out those doors by my side.

I nod my understanding.

"I'll leave you to spend some time. Visiting hours end in twenty minutes." The doctor gives a soft bow of her head and leaves.

"Go, get some rest,” I say. “You guys look like you're ok."

"You think a little plane crash is going to rattle us?" Hicks says, blowing raspberries. "We're not going anywhere, Balsy. We'll be right by your side in that waiting room."

Fergie nods his agreement.

"He's right. You guys should get some rest." Rina says, striding into the room and standing to the right of my beautiful siren. "Ryker and I will hold down the fort," she winks at me as she runs a hand over Izzy's in a sisterly touch.

The machines Izzy's attached to hiss and puff around her.

"Fine," Fergie says. "But in the morning, we're bringing tacos."

"Wouldn't expect anything less," Rina smiles, her eyes still on my girl. She turns to me. "Keelan knows her better than anyone. She'll be ok, Ry guy."

Ry guy. Wow. She hasn't called me that since college. Though I'm sure the way she was caring for Keelan, she's definitely brought down the wall she's built up around us this whole time.

"Come on," she tells the guys. "Let's give them some space."

They follow her out the door, but before they're out of sight, Hicks leans back in.

"If you need anything. Anything at all..." he shakes the phone in his hand, and I get the message. I give him a nod, and he shuts the door behind him.

Finally, I can breathe.

The machines are still helping Izzy breathe. Still pushing air in. And pushing it out.

I sit beside her, taking her hand in mine and bringing her limp fingers to my lips. She still smells so much like herself, even with the sterile environment of the hospital seeping into her pores.

I pull out the phone from my back pocket and re-read the text she sent me that I've read almost a hundred times already.

Izzy: I don't want any regrets. I want you. For real. No more faking things.

I think we both know we’re long past faking things. She's not in the clear.

But this promise. This one singular promise has me fighting the tug of my lips into a smile.

"When you wake up, Iz. Your mine. Only mine," I whisper to the beautiful woman before me.

Chapter 22

Izzy

My eyelids won't budge.

Why?

Why can't I open my eyes?

I try again, and the tiniest sliver of light comes through, and I force them shut again.

Ugh. Why is it so hard to open my eyes?

"Nurse..." there's the sound of a chair scraping across the floor as a male voice calls out, "Nurse!"

I hear footsteps and the feel of hands on me.

"Very good. Very good, Isabella. Try to open your eyes." The soothing female voice coaches me. "There you go."

I open one eye and see the face of an Asian woman, regal and beautiful, all dressed in white.

"Am I...in heaven?" I ask. My voice is raspy and scratching like I've gone weeks without drinking water.

She chuckles. "No, thankfully not yet," the woman says. “But you are in a hospital. Isabella, do you remember anything that happened before you got here?'

I struggle to get my second eye open. The light in the room makes it almost unbearable.

"Should I kill the lights?" The male voice asks earnestly.

"Yes, thank you. That might help her."

"Keelan?" I ask, wondering if I've somehow forgotten my own brother's voice.

"He's still recovering," the male says.

"Re-cover-ing?" I get out with tremendous effort. "From what?"

I make a move to try to sit up, but the woman who I imagine to be my doctor stops me.

"Isabella, you've suffered a brain injury. I need you to move slowly and take it easy. Do you understand?"

I give a small nod. Anything more than that, and it feels like my head might burst from the motion.

"Now, I'm going to bring in some of my colleagues who will run some tests, and I'll return to ask you some standard questions to see how well you're recovering. "

"Wha—what happened?" I ask.

"We'll explain everything. Just sit tight,” she says and tells the male stranger in the room, "It'll only be a moment. Remember what we discussed."

He nods his understanding and then comes to sit next to me as the doctor leaves.

I look over at him. He's handsome in a rough, rugged kind of way. There’s stubble on his cheeks like he forgot to shave. He's big, too. Like he could be a linebacker.

"Hi," he says. His voice is husky. But not in an 'I'm dying of thirst" kind of way like mine probably sounds.

"Um...hi?" He keeps his distance, but I notice his face fall slightly.

'How are you feeling, Iz?"

He says my name like he knows me.

"I'm sorry, have we met?"

He smiles—big and radiant, and it hits me right in the heart unexpectedly.

This man is gorgeous.

"There's my girl," he says, leaning in closer and reaching for my hand.

I move it away. And his face contorts.

"Izzy," he breathes.

"Your girl?" I ask. "Oh, ok. I see what this is..." I look around the room to see if he's trying to pull the wool over my head. "This is so like him to get his team in on a prank."

I'm pretty sure I've met every player for the UCLA men’s hockey team, so this man must be a recent addition. However, he looks a little mature to be playing college hockey.

"Izzy, who are you talking about?" the man says, worry written on his face.

"Trevor," I say matter-of-factly. "He put you up to this, didn't he?"

The handsome face drops, and he looks like somebody just asked him to eat a pile of shit.

"So where is he?" I ask, trying to see out the door to where my boyfriend is hiding.

"Izzy, he's...he's not..." he's stumbling over his words.

A knock at the door interrupts him, and a small team of doctors enters. One of them has a clipboard in hand.

"We're going to need the room," the one with the clipboard says to the man. "We can call you back after we've run a few tests."

"There's....there's something wrong," he says, that worried look flashing across his features again.

"Yes, Mr. Balinger, that's why we need to run the tests."

Balinger? Who is this, Mr. Balinger?

"Excuse me," I say to the male doctor speaking to the man. "Is my boyfriend here? Or maybe my brother?"

Mr. Balinger glares at the doctor and motions towards me, growling out, "See?"

"Sir, let's chat outside, please," the doctor says, handing the clipboard to one of the other doctors who was trailing behind him. "Get a sample and then prep her for an MRI," he instructs her before holding the door open to this Balinger guy.

The stranger gives me a pleading look, like a puppy, before shaking his head and following the doctor out. I don't see the man again before I'm being wheeled out to get the requested MRI. My brain feels foggy. Like I've been sedated and just want to go back to sleep.

There are so many gaps in what I remember. I try to get the doctors to fill me in, but nobody gives me anything other than I'm in the country's best neurological hospital located in Houston and the extent of the accident.

Why I was on a plane heading to the Northeast with my brother is still a mystery, along with the identity of the man who was in my room earlier.

I'm settled back into my room when there's a knock on my door. Familiar, excited brown eyes land on me immediately.

I gasp, "Aunt Ginny!"

"Oh, my baby girl," the brown-haired beauty that is my father's sister pushes the door fully open and strides towards me. "Oh, Izzy-girl, what on God's green earth are they doing to you, baby? You look like an entire science experiment!"

She pauses in front of me to assess the cap I'm wearing on my head that the doctor explained is keeping track of my neurological progress. I shrug and try to give a smile as she takes my cold hand into her warm one.

"I'm so happy to see you awake," she whispers before leaning in to kiss my cheek.

"How long have you been waiting?"

"Days. But never mind that," she waves me off with a flick of her hand.

"How are you feeling, baby?" She rubs an affectionate hand over my bare arms, and I notice how cold it is in the room compared to her warm body.

"Like I was in a plane that fell out of the sky and had to make an emergency landing in Virginia."

She's amused that I'm taking this so lightly.

"That...sounds about right," she says with a chuckle. "Your brother has been an absolute basket case waiting for you to wake up. He's on his way now."

"What about Trevor?" I ask her, wondering if maybe he hasn't been able to break away from training camp.

"Sincaid? Why do you care where that son of a—"

"Izzy!" The door nudges open, revealing my older brother standing on crutches. "Oh, thank fuck you're ok!"

"Kee-lan. Language," Aunt Ginny scolds him.

He hobbles over to us. "Sorry, Aunt G. I just can't believe she's actually awake."

I don't mention Trevor to Keelan. He doesn't know I've been in a very serious relationship with someone from one of his most hated college hockey rival teams.

"She was just asking for..."

"You!" I cut her off with a glare. "You, bro. How's the leg?"

He shrugs, "I'm out for the season. But look at you. You get a cool designer hat and everything and all I get are these stupid crutches," he smirks.

"What were we doing going to Philadelphia, anyway? I mean, besides the whole city of brotherly love thing and all?"

"Shit," Keelan says, his head dropping. "So Ryker was right."

"Who's Ryker? What am I doing in Houston, Kee?"

The diminutive but impressive doctor knocks on the door, standing at the entrance.

"I see you've been reunited with some of your loved ones. It's been a full circus in here the last week. You're very loved, Isabella."

What could she possibly be talking about? I live a pretty secluded life. It’s just me, my roommate, and my...

"Oh my god, Wednesday!" I blurt out.

"The guys have her. Don't worry, sis. They are under strict instructions to spoil my niece. Whether or not she lets them—well—” He shrugs.

The guys. Keelan's roommates he's told me about. He brought her all the way from Cali. That’s sweet of him.

The doctor comes closer, checking my vitals on the constantly beeping machines next to my bed.

Aunt Ginny moves to the other side of the room, followed by Keelan, who tries to sit on the sofa and is clearly struggling.

"Isabella," the doctor begins. "My name Dr. Aiko Tanaka."

I look to the lanyard that is hanging from her jacket pocket to confirm.

"Can you please tell me your full name?"

"Isabella Landry," I answer without a hitch.

"And what's your date of birth, please?" She types on a small tablet in her hand.

"August 23rd, 2002. So I'll finally be legal soon," I laugh.

Aunt Ginny and Keelan both exchange a look before turning back to me.

"Izzy, what is today's date?" Dr. Tanaka asks.

I squint to think. "August 12th, 2023. So, do you think I'll be healed from this head injury before my big day? I'd hate to be still hooked up to this thing by then."

The doctor gives my family a solemn look. "Isabella, this might come as a shock to you. But there's an almost three-month gap in your memory."

"Um...what?"

She nods. Aunt Ginny clutches her bag closer to her like she's hugging it for emotional support.

"It's completely normal for this kind of injury for patients to sometimes lose even years of memories. But the brain is a muscle, Isabella. And it just needs time and therapy to recover properly."

She pulls out some images from a folder under her tablet.

"The swelling has gone down significantly. It looks like you're on the right track toward healing. But I'll need to follow up with you pretty regularly. We'll keep you overnight for further observation.” The doctor then looks over to my family. "But she should be good to go home as early as tomorrow afternoon."

"Oh, thank heavens," Ginny says at the same time Keelan says, "About fucking time."

Aunt Ginny gives him a disapproving look. "What?" he shrugs.

Dr. Tanaka turns her attention back to me. "Do you have any questions for me, Isabella—Izzy?"

I scrunch my brows together, trying to recall my most recent memories, but nothing comes up.

“Just one," I begin. "So I'm already of legal drinking age?"

Chapter 23

Ryker

Islam the trunk shut even though there's a button for that. I need to hear the satisfying sound of slamming something.

"Don't think that's how those work," Hicks says, standing up from the front steps to meet me at my car. "You sure you don't want to stick around?"

I look over at Keelan's house—the house where I've fallen in love with his little sister. I shake my head. "I have some things I need to take care of."

"So you're just going to give up? Just like that?" Fergie says, taking a sip of his root beer in front of the giant double doors of the mansion.

"She needs time," I remind him.

"No, you're being a fucking coward," Fergie accuses.

Hicks turns to him in shock. "Wow. I never thought I'd get to say this. Jar, man."

Fergie shakes his head, "Those are house rules, and I'm," he hooks his thumb at the mansion behind him, "not in the fucking house."

Idiots. But what Fergie says stings.

Am I being a coward for leaving? For choosing to give the woman I love space to heal and time to remember without the sight of me sulking around?

I mean, she asked for her ex? The same one I nearly pummeled to a pulp just a few weeks ago.

What if she never remembers? Then I'll have to be around to watch her be head over heels for some sorry excuse for a man while I can't do anything about it because, to her... I am nothing.

"I gotta go," I tell the guys, making my way to the driver’s side.

Wednesday shuffles out the door to sit next to Fergie, both of them glaring at me.

"Don't look at me like that," I say mostly to the stupid dog who's been sleeping with me every night since Izzy was flown in from the hospital in Virginia.

"You're choosing to abandon us," Fergie answers for her.

But that's the furthest thing from the truth.

Izzy has her Aunt Ginny. She has Keelan. And even Wednesday. She doesn't need me around too.

Anyway, I won't be too far if, for some reason, she does regain all her memories. But I haven't told the guys anything about my new digs yet.

I get in the car without saying another word and peel out of the driveway. Dust kicks up behind me, and I watch from the rearview mirror as Fergie shoots me the bird and turns to go inside. Hicks is still standing in the driveway. His arms crossed and his head shaking.

In less than a minute, I'm at my new house. I make sure to park in the garage in case any of the guys recognize my car.

I take a deep breath before letting myself out and pushing open the interior garage door to my house. It's still nearly empty. It’s the neighborhood's newest build, having just been completed last week. There's a pool and a casita. And it's just down the road from Keelan's place.

"I was wondering if they were going to let you go," a voice comes from the kitchen.

I round the corner to see my brother leaning over the island as he sets down the book he is reading.

"They'll get used to it," I drop my keys onto the counter and walk up to him, slapping him on the back in greeting. "Did'ya pick a room yet?"

My brother's giant build swivels on the bar stool he's on.

"You really couldn't just put me up in a one-bedroom apartment?" He chuckles. "Such a rich, boujee asshole you've become."

"You've been locked up for nearly a decade, and you're telling me you'd prefer a room with a single bed as your home?"

I guess one gets accustomed to small spaces when it's all you know for so long. Much like I've gotten used to roommates, having lived with Keelan and his circus the last few weeks.

In the few weeks since Izzy's been in the hospital, my brother was finally approved to be released early for good behavior. Now, he's readjusting to life outside of prison. Very slowly adjusting.

He goes over to the fridge and eyes the fruits and veggies I've stocked there with a shake of his head.

"What do you think your fancy neighbors will think when they find out they have a convict living next door?" A smile tugs his lips as he looks back at me.

"Who says they need to know? Besides, you're harmless," I smile. "I'm the one they need to worry about."

Taking care of my brother is the least I can do for the price he's paid for me for all those years. I promised him I'd make it right—promised him that when he got out, I'd be there for him.

And as irritated as I am with Izzy's current predicament, I guess I should be grateful that it's bought me some time with my older brother.

"What are you going to tell your girl?" Rowan asks, selecting an apple and shutting the fridge. Leaning against it, he crosses his arms and takes a bite, assessing me.

"I don't know, Row. I guess if she ever remembers what we are to each other, I'll want to be honest with her. Let her know the truth."

"Do you trust her?" he asks.

The question makes me stop breathing for a second. I think about those quiet moments when we shared a space. The way she was so open and vulnerable. The way her eyes seemed to pierce right through me to find their way into my very soul.

What she said to me that drunken night.

"You're not an ass. You're just misunderstood."

Izzy saw me—the way no one else could.

"I trust her. I just don't think she trusts me."

He pushes himself off the fridge and walks over to the back door. "Sounds like you got some work to do then."

"What are you talking about?"

"Oh, I'm sorry," he places a dramatic hand over his chest. "I thought my brother was a badass that wins no matter what. I guess I must've had you confused for someone who actually gives a fuck. My bad."

He throws the sliding doors aside and disappears into the backyard. I watch him walk up to the casita, and he waves back at me before opening the door and shutting it behind him.

I guess he's picked his room after all.

So now I have this giant house. All to myself. Nice one, bro. Real nice.

But I think about his words. And Rowan is right. I've never been one to give up. And if Izzy can't remember me because of her injuries. Then, I'd just need to find another way to get back into her heart.

I go to the front of the house and look out the window from the study just as I see the familiar yellow Raptor driving by. Ginny must be in the driver's seat, with Izzy sitting up front and Keelan in the back with his leg propped.

And it looks like that journey to get back into her heart needs to start now.

Chapter 24

Izzy

"Ibrought you some tea," Aunt Ginny says from the doorframe. She's holding a tray with a pot, two mugs, and some honey. "Can I come in?"

I nod and turn back to the pictures hanging on my wall. They're photos of my brother's hockey team. The one I apparently work for. And they're really good photos, at that.

"I just can't believe I've lived a whole life here, and I...can't remember it," I shake my head slowly. "It feels surreal."

Aunt Ginny sets the tray on my desk and pours me a cup, mixing in some honey and handing it to me before making herself one. She comes to stand next to me, and we clink our mugs before taking twin sips as we both stare at the pictures.

"It was always your dream to be a professional photographer. Just like it was Keelan's dream to play professional hockey. Imagine my joy when I found out you both are getting to do what you love together."

My eyes continue to rove over the unfamiliar faces. There's a group photo of Keelan and three other guys sitting on a couch laughing. I recognize the only one brooding in the picture.

"Who is this Balinger dude?" I point to him. Aunt Ginny follows my finger to where the man is in the photo.

"A hell of a goalie, I'll tell you that much," she smiles. "He's Keelan's best friend."

Hmm. That must be why he was waiting in my hospital room when I awoke—surely taking his shift assigned by Keelan. It was sweet of my brother to take care of me.

"Oh, I almost forgot. I got you something," Aunt Ginny sets her mug down and disappears into our shared bathroom, returning from her room with a small bag in her hand.

She extends it to me. "I hope you like the color."

I take the bag from her and reach inside, pulling out a small box. "A new cell phone!" I exclaim.

"It's supposed to have like a bazillion lenses and take super sharp photos, which I figured you'd appreciate. And since your last one wasn't recovered in the wreckage..." she shrugs.

The way she says it so easily. So nonchalantly. Wreckage.

How the pilot of that plane with over forty passengers and crew members managed to keep everyone alive as it crashed into an open field will forever shock and amaze me.

"Though I'm sure after Carson sends in your demand, you'll be able to afford whatever phone you want," she says, picking up her mug again and taking a seat at my desk.

I would get compensation for the pain and suffering as well as all my medical bills, according to the lawyer Keelan hired. And he would, too, though he wasn't concerned about being compensated. Just that I got the best treatment money could buy to regain my memory and help my healing.

"I can't believe the NHL expects them to play a game this weekend already. You'd think there'd be some kind of rule for freak accidents like this."

“The boys are ready. They’ll miss Keelan but they’re ready. Besides, you were the only one who suffered a brain injury, Iz. And that was because of the asthma attack."

Right. It was always the asthma attacks with me. It had happened my whole life but increased in frequency after I got the news that my parents passed when I was six.

Breathe, Izzy. Breathe.

A man's voice breaks through my thoughts. Strong. Demanding. Calming.

I shake my head, wondering if part of the amnesia is hearing voices that aren't there.

"You ok?" Aunt Ginny asks slowly rising from her seat.

"I just need some air." I put my mug down and Wednesday jumps from my bed and follows me out the door.

I walk straight through the hallway into the kitchen and bump into one of Keelan's—er—my roommates. The brown-haired cutie sets his hands on both my shoulders, steadying me. "Woah, easy there, sissy."

He smiles down at me revealing a tooth that is partly chipped. It's somewhat endearing.

"Joshua Hicks, right?" I say trying to recall his name from when Keelan introduced us earlier.

His eyes widen with joy. "Yes, yes that's right." He's excited like I'm a baby who just said da-da for the first time.

He drops his hands and places them in his pockets. "Are you heading out?"

"I just need some fresh air. Do you know where I keep my sneakers?"

"Fu-dge, yeah!" he says, looking around like he didn't want to get caught cussing.

"What's with the censorship?" I ask, looking around, too.

"Fergie's swear jar," he says, motioning for me to follow him to the front of the house. "We all owe him about a thousand bucks for all the cussing we've done over the last few weeks."

He walks me to the closet and opens it, revealing rows and rows of organized shoes.

"Wow, for a house full of dudes. You guys are really organized."

Hicks tilts his head as he looks into the closet and then back at me. "Uh, Izzy. You did that."

I feel my eyebrows shoot up, and I assess my handiwork. "I...organized the shoes?" I say, the question hanging between us.

"Uh, yeah. And the pantry, the garage, and you color-coded the library."

"Why?" I say, disgusted with myself. I would never willingly organize. I hated organizing.

"You lost a bet during one of our dinners," he shrugged.

I try to recall it. But searching my memories is like opening a door and not being able to see what's inside. I just see fog.

"O-kay," I say, grabbing a pair of sneakers I recognize. I also grab a Heatwave jacket from one of the hangers.

It has the number thirty-three printed on the back. But no name. I don't see any of my jackets, so it'll have to do.

Hicks holds back a smile and waves me off. "See you for dinner, Iz. Try not to get lost."

"I have amnesia, Joshua. I'm not inept," I scoff.

"Aaand, she's back," he says, walking back to the kitchen.

I turn towards the door and jump, seeing Wednesday standing like a perfect statue unblinking.

"Jeezus," I breathe out. "Can you at least warn me when you just show up like that?"

She cocks her head to the side like my request is insane, and I take that as a no.

"Alright, let's go, girl." I pull the leash I see hanging out of the closet and hook it into her collar.

I only get a few hundred yards from the driveway when my phone starts to ring. I don't recognize the number, and I don't have any saved contacts in my phone yet, so it could be anyone. Maybe even my lawyer or my doctor. So I answer.

"Where are you?" the voice booms from the phone.

"I'm sorry. Last I checked, I am a fully grown adult capable of leaving the house whenever I desire," I shoot back.

My brother isn't taking my sass, "Your doctor says you can't be alone."

"Well, good thing I'm not," I retort. "I have Wednesday with me."

"Iz-zy," he says my name like a warning.

"Look, I'm just going down the road and back, okay, Kee? I just need to be outside. I need to breathe."

Breathe, Izzy. Breathe.

That voice again. A gentle caress coming from the recesses of my brain. Is it Trevor? I can't pinpoint it.

"Fine," Keelan huffs. "But if I don't see or hear from you in fifteen minutes, I'm sending for reinforcements."

I roll my eyes. "Bye, Keelan." And hang up.

A text comes through almost immediately.

Unknown number: Don't test me. -K

Unknown number: Save my number.

It's Keelan being Keelan. He's always been extra protective of me.

I save his contact info as Warden Landry, and I tuck my phone into the jacket pocket.

Wednesday sniffs occasionally as we walk. We pass a few women pushing strollers, and I wave at them as they shoot glances at my bandaged head.

"Plane crash," I point to my head as they walk by, staring at me in confusion and pushing their strollers a little faster.

Tough crowd.

We keep walking until we find ourselves in a cul-de-sac with only one house. "Looks like this is where we turn around," I say to Wednesday. She's about to turn with me but then suddenly goes still.

I tug on her leash, trying to get her to follow me. "Wends?" I pull again, but the dog has gone statue straight.

"What the heck are you looking at?"

Her eyes are locked on the big, beautiful house taking up the entire cul-de-sac. "Yeah, it's a nice house, but let's go before the owner spots us staring,” I say.

The sun is slowly going down behind the house, and I'm sure whoever lives there has the best view of a gorgeous Texas sunset every single night.

'Wednesday!" I tug her towards me, but instead of coming to me she starts pulling me towards the front door.

Now, Wednesday isn't a big dog by any means. But she is persistent as hell. Which means when she wants something, she'll stop at nothing to get it. So the medium-sized dog is now dragging me towards the front door of the massive estate, sniffing the entire way like Scooby Doo, finding a clue.

I fight with her as she continues to tug. But it's useless. I haven't had an actual meal in a while, with the last few days being just jello and broth to get my stomach used to food again. So, in my weakened state, the dog wins. And when she makes it to the impressive double black wooden doors, she plants her butt in front of them and stares at them, whimpering.

What the hell?

Maybe she smells steak. Or another dog?

The thought of steak has my stomach twisting, and I don't feel so good.

'Wednesday," I whisper. "Please, we need to go." I pull again.

But suddenly, the porch lights go on, and I gasp as the giant black door is pulled open.

There's a man with beautiful green eyes and no shirt staring right back at me. He looks so familiar like he might be an acquaintance.

"Um..hehe...hi," I say. "Sorry about this, but my dog has no self-control, and she apparently wants something that's in your house."

The man says nothing. He stays leaning on the door with one arm propped high on the frame as he assesses me. His eyes bounce from my dog back to me and my bandaged head.

"Any-ways, we'll be leaving now. Sorry to bother you—"

"Come in," he says, stepping to the side.

"Uh...no, no, thank you. We're just on a walk. My brother is just right behind," I say, getting nervous.

But instead of heeding the red flags, my daredevil of a dog, shoots forward into the house, tugging the leash out of my hand unexpectedly.

Fuck.

'I'm so sorry! I'll just get her...Wednesday!" I brush past the handsome man and run after the she-devil.

"Wednesday!" The house is huge, and I don't see her anywhere.

That's when I see a figure lounging by the pool and my dog bounding toward him.

"Ohmigod!" I breathe out, going through the open back door to chase after her.

Chapter 25

Ryker

I'm scrolling through pictures on my phone when I land on one that steals my breath.

I remember when I took it. I’m kissing Izzy’s neck as she sits with me on the hood of my car. Her eyes are closed, savoring the contact.

That was our night. The night everything changed. It’s so clear on both our faces.

"Wednesday!"

I look up in time to see a bouncing fur ball coming straight for me.

"Oh shit," I say, catching her in my arms as she hurls herself at me and starts licking my face.

What the hell?!

I look up at the vision running after her. And she's wearing...my jacket?

"I am so sorry," she says, trying to catch her breath. "She just...ran into your house...like she owns the place and..."

"It's ok,” I say, rising from my seat. “It's ok. Just breathe, Izzy. Breathe," I say as I set the dog on the ground and put a hand on her shoulder.

She stiffens. "Oh...it's you."

I cock my head to the side, "Do you know who I am?"

"You're Keelan's friend. From the hospital."

Ok, so she doesn't remember me. Not yet, anyway.

"Yes," I say, trying to hide the disappointment in my voice.

Wednesday is still jumping around my legs.

"That's so weird," Izzy says, her breathing finally stabilizing. "She never acts like this."

"What are you doing here?" I ask her, ignoring the jumping menace at my feet.

"I mean," she gives a shaky laugh. "I was just going for a walk when my dog decided she needed to come attack you with kisses, apparently."

She sounds surprised.

"We've hung out quite a bit," I admit to her so that her dog's reaction to me does not entirely fluster her.

Though I am glad that somebody remembers me.

"My brother said you moved away. He made it sound like it was far away. Does he know you’re right around the corner?"

“Not yet. Speaking of your brother, does he know you’re here?”

She gives me a deadpan look that suggests 'she's grown,' and a small smile tugs at the corners of my mouth.

"Would you like to sit, Izzy?” I motion to the empty lounge chair beside me, and she looks from me to Wednesday and then decides to accept my offer.

"So you and Keelan….such great friends that you had to stay in the same neighborhood, huh?" She pulls her legs under her and leans back into the lounge. I take my seat again, and Wednesday cuddles up to my side.

Izzy's eyes stay trained on her dog. "Looks like my dog is charmed by you, too." She says.

"Charmed, too?" I chuckle.

"You must be the guy everyone likes. The guy that babies stop crying when you hold them, and dogs drag their owners around to get to them."

Ha! She couldn't be further from the truth. But she doesn't know me. To Izzy, I'm not Ryker Balinger, her Goalie-zilla. I'm just her brother's best friend. Some guy she doesn't even know.

My brother walks up to us and holds out two bottles of water.

"That would be me, actually," Rowan says as Izzy takes one of the proffered bottles.

"Oh, thanks," she says, smiling at him.

Rowan throws her a wink and sits at the end of my lounge chair. I'm sure I can't hide my glare because he's raising a brow at me questioningly. "Aren't you going to introduce us, bro?"

I clear my throat, fully aware that my brother hasn't been in the presence of many females, let alone any that look like Isabella Landry, in quite some time...if ever.

"Izzy. This is my brother, Rowan Balinger. He just moved here, too."

"Nice to meet you," Izzy says, extending a hand. "I live just down the road, apparently."

Rowan laughs. "Apparently. Well, welcome to the neighborhood."

"Yeah, you too. Where'd you move from?" she asks.

Rowan gives me a quick look.

"Row just moved here from Oklahoma. But we were both born and raised here in Houston."

"Huh," Izzy studies us. "Just a couple of Texas cowboys."

"I hear you’re from Cali," Row says. "You miss it?"

Izzy scrunches her brows together as if trying to remember. "I think so. I love the ocean. And the sunsets over the water. It's one of my favorite things to photograph."

Her phone starts to ring in her jacket pocket. "Excuse me," she says as she fishes it out. She rolls her eyes and turns off the ringer. "And I miss not having a babysitter, twenty-four-seven,” she adds.

"Me too," says Rowan, and I shake my head, knowing he's referring to life before he landed behind bars.

Her phone vibrates, and she tries to pretend like she doesn’t hear it.

"You should probably answer that if it's Keelan.” I urge her. “He'll file a missing person's report.”

When her phone vibrates again, she answers it in a snap. "I'm fine, Warden. I just needed some space. Now, could you please, for the love of all that is holy, give me a break."

She hits the disconnect button, and Rowan and I exchange glances.

"You, ok?" I ask her.

She breathes in deeply. "I don't remember anything from the past few months," she admits. "In my mind, I have a boyfriend in California who hasn't reached out to me yet, so I'm not sure where we stand. My roommate who hasn't either. And I have this whole new life here that nobody can fill me in on because the doctor suggests that I come to everything on my own. It's so frustrating. Like having to piece a puzzle together, and everybody but me knows the image I'm trying to put together."

She breathes in again. "At least tell me if I was good at my job." She looks at me with those pleading eyes.

I hesitate to say much, but the obvious, "Well, you work for Rina Lopez. I'd say that speaks for itself."

She chokes on a gulp of water and coughs uncontrollably, "Excuse me? Rina Lopez hired me?"

I hold back my amusement and nod.

"Well, o-kay. That's pretty good, I'd say." She's shaking her head like she can't believe this is her life.

Rowan looks over to me, "Wait, is that Rina, Rina?"

I give him a quick terse nod so he gets the hint to drop it.

Over the years that Row's been locked up, he's been kept up to date on all my life events, including those of my close friends.

Now my phone goes off.

Keelan: Miss you, bro. Izzy's off. I want to tell her so bad. Tell her everything. It's killing me.

I take a deep breath and look at the woman seated beside me.

"Do you want to maybe....check out the arena?" I ask.

"Space City arena?" She cocks her head. "I'd love that! Now?” I nod, and she frowns and pulls out her phone. “I better text my warden—I mean, brother.”

I stand up and stretch out my hand. "I'll drive. Row, you coming?"

His lips quirk up, "Sorry, bro. Got some major plans featuring a big screen TV and a show called Schitt's Creek."

I know what he's doing, and I kind of love him for it.

Izzy follows me to the garage, Wednesday close behind her.

"Please tell me that's not what we're taking?"

I smirk, "Yeah, you didn't like it the first time we met, either."

"Let me guess, you revved your engine and honked your horn at me when you saw me for the first time because I was so irresistible," she flutters her lashes, and I know she's teasing, but she's surprisingly accurate.

"Half true. Get in," I say, opening the passenger-side door.

"What part of it?" She bends to pick up Wednesday without even asking if we can bring her and slides into the car.

I open the door, slide in, and shut it, "Wouldn't you like to know, sweetheart?"

"Ew," the look of disgust that flashes across her face sends me into a fit of laughter.

This is Izzy. The Izzy I've come to know.

She's confused and can't remember, but she's still....her. And I'm so grateful. Because if she's still her, then maybe there's still a chance for us.

“Oh my gawd!" She gasps, bringing her hand to her mouth and looking over at me with those beautiful eyes widening "Did we...?"

She doesn't move. Not even to breathe. And I swear I can physically feel the air completely dissolve from the car as I break out into a sweat.

"Did we....what?" I say coolly.

"Don't play coy with me, Ryker Balinger!"

"You can just call me Ryker, you know."

"I will not. Not until you tell me. Did we?"

If Izzy can only remember the time before she made Houston her home, then that means she doesn't remember that she's no longer a virgin.

Shit. No person should ever have to deal with this.

"Uh...I don't...uh," I rub the back of my neck uncomfortably.

"Well?" Those eyes are fixed on me, and here, in the close proximity of my sports car, there's nothing keeping us away from each other.

I just need to say it. Rip off the Band-Aid, Balinger.

"Oh my god. OH my god," she looks at me one more time before shaking her head and burying her face in her hands. "Oh...my...god. No wonder we're not together anymore. I can't just make out with my brother's best friend and expect Trevor to still want to be with me." She breathes out, disgusted with herself.

And now...I'm confused.

"Wait...made out?"

She looks at me. "Yes, that's what we did, right? Ugh...I'm a horrible person."

She thinks we made out. ONLY made out.

Fuck.

I don't say anything as the garage door raises, and I put the car in reverse to drive out of the neighborhood. Izzy is looking out the window and shaking her head like she's the world's biggest heathen. And I feel like actual scum of the earth.

"At least tell me we weren't still dating. Like we were on a break or something? Something to make myself feel better about this."

"Uh...you and..."

"My boyfriend. Trevor. He's back in LA."

Double fuck.

"You weren't together," I manage to get out. And she lets out a breath of relief.

"Breathe, Izzy. You're the nicest human I know. You're better than that."

Her eyes go wide again and she slowly turns to face me as I enter the tollway.

"What?" I ask, wondering what the hell has her bug-eyed.

"Say that again," she insists.

I laugh, "What, that you're the nicest human I know? I play for the Heatwave. We don't exactly have the best reputation out there. Don't be so surprised."

"No, tell me to breathe."

Okay, I'm officially confused. Did I get a concussion in that brawl with Trevor? I didn’t think he landed a punch. I humor her, though.

"Breathe, Izzy."

She shivers and shakes her head.

"Are you okay?" I ask, shifting my eyes from the road before me to her and back.

"Yeah," she says, waving it off and holding Wednesday closer to her.

We're not far from the arena, and Izzy doesn't say anything else about it as we park, and I swipe my access card to enter the building.

I hold the door open, and she slips in under my arm, still holding Wednesday, who is looking around the building, intrigued by the adventure.

"Pretty sure dogs aren't allowed," I say, shutting the door behind us, and we walk down the hall toward the ice.

"Oh, yeah? Then why are you here?" She says smugly, her eyes roving up and down my frame before rolling.

I do a horrible job of trying to hide my amusement.

"Look," she says, stopping halfway down the hall and gazing up at me. "I don't know what this thing is that we have going on between us, but it's got to stop. It's just too weird. So if we're like a thing or something...let's just end it here. Be just friends, ok?"

Just like earlier, I feel the air leave the room.

"Just...friends?" If she only knew we were too far gone for 'just friends.’

"Yes. Friends. Like the guys at the house. You guys are Keelan's friends. We work together, for goodness’ sake...it's inappropriate." She shrugs her shoulders so matter-of-factly as if there's no arguing with it.

She wants just friends. We'll be just friends. But I won't make it fucking easy on her.

I look around to make sure nobody can see us and open the door to Rina's office.

"What are you—"

I step inside and pull her in by the waist with me.

"Ryker!"

"Izzy..." I rasp. I can almost hear her heart beating in her chest as I take her chin and make her look at me. "We are so past just friends it's not even fucking funny."

She licks her lips and looks up at me with those siren eyes I've fallen so hard for.

"Well, I don't recall so..."

"Then let me help you remember." I dip my head low enough that I can taste her breath on my tongue. She's shaking, but before I can pull away and regain control of myself, her lips land on mine.

And she's not shy.

Her mouth opens to me. Wanting me. And I claim her right back. Wrapping her loose hair into a fist, I pull it back so her neck is open to me. I release her lips and taste her, running my tongue down the smooth skin there, and watch as I leave a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

Mine. This girl is mine. Whether she knows it or not. Her body knows. Her body remembers. And I'll be damned if another man thinks he can come in and take her from under me.

She moans at the sensation and reaches up to wrap her arm around my neck. On instinct, I pick her up, and her legs wrap around my hips. I walk her the few feet it takes to hit Rina's desk.

"Whose...office...is this?" She asks between kisses.

I chuckle low and dark and send the objects atop the desk onto the floor.

Izzy leans back, and that perfect body is sitting before me. God, I want to bury myself inside of her. Make her remember what we are. Who we are to each other.

I gulp. Nervous to make another move.

"Oh, what? You go all predator versus prey on me and then stop to consider your actions? You’re Ryker Balinger. Goalie of the Houston Heatwave NHL team. Act like it."

It's an invitation. A challenge.

"You don't know what you're asking for,” I warn.

She grabs me by the shirt and pulls me towards her. All innocence is gone from her eyes. "Then remind me."

Chapter 26

Izzy

Ryker’s hands come up to cup my face, and he looks deep into my eyes.

Just by looking into those green eyes, I can feel a wave of memories about to crash into me—an elusive tide. I hear a buzzing in my ear. It sounds like...engines. On a plane. Like white noise that keeps getting louder and louder.

I close my eyes, and I'm back there. I'm on the plane. Keelan is next to me, grabbing onto my arm.

And I...I can't breathe.

I. Can't. Breathe.

I gasp, but the oxygen won't enter my lungs. My limbs grow heavy. There's that loud noise again. The space around me starts to plummet as my sight fizzles, and everything goes dark.

I. Can't—

"Breathe, Izzy. Baby, breathe."

I'm lying on something hard.

That voice is in my ear, coaxing me. "Do you have your inhaler?"

I blink, still gasping.

"Izzy, Inhaler?" He asks again. I shake my head, still gasping. My hands go to my chest before I'm overcome with exhaustion, and they fall to my side.

I'm falling. Falling. Falling into nothingness.

The whoosh of air in my lungs wakes me up. My eyes shoot open, and Ryker's pushing into my chest as I cough.

"Izzy," he gasps, holding my head up to look at him. "Can you hear me?"

I blink until I can open my eyes. He picks me up in one fell swoop and kisses me on the forehead as he carries me out the door.

"Where are we going?" I wheeze.

"Medic! Medic!" he calls out.

I hear a man's voice down the hall, "Balinger?"

"It's Izzy, she's not breathing. She's having some sort of panic or...or asthma attack."

"Set her down," the voice says.

There's a light shining in my eyes. "Ms. Landry, if you can hear me, please blink twice."

I do.

"Good." There's the sound of rummaging through drawers. And in a moment, an oxygen mask is placed over my face.

"Call an ambulance," the voice urges.

"Already on it," says Ryker.

I cough. The forced oxygen into my lungs overwhelms me as Ryker gives the dispatcher our current location and urges them to hurry up.

But I hear it again. The loud sound of airplane engines and if I don't bring my hands up to my ears, maybe I imagine doing it because every movement feels like wading through quicksand.

I don't hear when the ambulance arrives. Or when Ryker insists he goes with me. Because in my mind, I'm back on that plane.

And I'm falling back into darkness.

This time, when I wake up, I'm back in a hospital room. There's an IV in my arm and an oxygen mask over my face.

"...shouldn't be hereditary, but you just never know with these kinds of things. Our mom had—"

"Shhh...she's awake." I recognize Aunt Ginny's voice as I blink back at the lights in the room.

Someone's footsteps walk over to the switch and turn down the lights. Finally, I can see.

"Oh, honey," Aunt Ginny leans over me and wraps me in her arms. There are tears in her eyes, and they're dripping onto my exposed shoulder. The hospital gown that's on me has slipped slightly. And I feel a cool chill run through my body.

"How long was I out this time?" I ask, afraid of what she'll say.

Keelan and Ryker are at the end of the bed and exchange a look between them.

"Oh god," I say. "It's bad, isn't it? What? Did I have another birthday?"

Aunt Ginny smiles and brushes some loose hair out of my face, "Noo, nooo. Nothing like that, baby."

I move to sit up on the bed to get a good look at them.

"Then...what's wrong?"

Keelan walks up to flank me across from Aunt Ginny, and Ryker stays where he's at. His eyes are ringed with shadows. He looks like hell, and that does nothing to ease my nerves.

"Izzy, you're...," Keelan pauses.

"What? Am I dying? I'm dying, aren't I?" That's why I can't remember anything. My body is giving up.

Here lies Isabella Landry. She was almost somebody. Almost.

There's a knock on the door just before a cheerful-looking male nurse walks in, pushing a cart of juices, jello, and pudding.

"How's our mama-to-be feeling in here? You ready to feed that little nugget?" He picks up one of the pudding cups and rips the top off with such finesse, dipping in a plastic spoon and handing it to me like an expert.

I laugh. A deep laugh that starts small but then grows as what he says starts to settle in.

"Oh, noooo. I'm not pregnant. You must have your charts mixed up." I say, still chuckling. "But I do love chocolate, so I'll just hold onto this." I hold the pudding cup up to him in a toast before I bring the spoon to my mouth.

He chuckles, "Very funny. Y'all didn't tell me we had a comedian amongst us. All jokes aside, how are you feeling, Mama?"

Mama? Why is he calling me that?

Ryker's head lowers. "She doesn't know."

"Come again?" The male nurse says cocking his head. His genial smile slowly slips, and he stiffens before facing me.

"Oh my, that must be quite the news for you then?" He laughs nervously. "Well, you didn't hear it from me," he leans in with one hand on the side of his face like he's whispering a secret, "but you, my dear, are with child."

I just blink at him until he clears his throat awkwardly.

It feels like an eternity before the words escape my lips, "Check again."

"Um...I mean, we can do another test, but the results came back conclusive."

"Check again," I repeat, but this time it's a demand.

"Ok, honey, I will,” the nurse assures, “but we ran a blood test, and those never come back with a false..."

"Did you not hear me? Check again. That can't be right. It can't. Unless by some miracle..."

His voice is in my head again. The one telling me to breathe. Ryker's.

And I know immediately. I can't remember...but I know.

"Oh...my...god," I bring my hands to my mouth. I don't know if I'm more embarrassed that I'm sitting here with my only living relatives realizing I've actually had sex...or that my baby daddy is staring at me with an intensity that has me blushing beyond anything I can control.

"I think we should give them a minute," Aunt Ginny says to Keelan as she squeezes my hand.

"Yes, I think that's a great idea," says the chipper male nurse who I currently want to punch in the throat.

They all shuffle out of the room. Aunt Ginny grabs her bag from the sofa and blows a kiss my way before looking at Ryker and giving him a nod.

She shuts the door, and I turn my attention to the man with the tousled hair at the end of my bed.

Chapter 27

Ryker

"We did more than just make out, didn't we?" Izzy hisses.

Unbelievable. We just found out we're having a baby, and suddenly, we're back to square one.

I'm the enemy.

I move to her right and take the seat Ginny was in, leaning forward with my elbows on my knees as I drop my head and run my hands over it. Again.

"Way more," I admit, avoiding her gaze.

Her fists clench into tight balls, and she takes a deep breath.

"Why is life so unfair to me?" She shakes her head before looking at me. "I lose my parents to a car accident when I'm only six years old. I grow up with my aunt, while my older brother goes on to pursue his dreams. I, on the other hand, get the shit end of the stick. Every. Freaking. Time. I wait.” Her hand curls into a fist on top of the blanket. “I don't get involved with boys to avoid making a mistake with someone I barely know...and yet, my plane crashes, and I lose all my memories only to find out I made the mistake I was trying to avoid anyway!"

She shakes her head again in disbelief.

"This isn't a mistake, Izzy."

"Oh really, it's not. Please, Ryker, please expound on how impregnating your best friend's younger sister isn't a mistake of epic proportions. You're a professional hockey player, for God's sake. You have a career. Do you think a child with a girl you barely know isn't going to mess that up for you? Are you that dense?"

"This isn't a mistake," I say again, this time with more bite.

"So what? You're going to tell me that in the few months I've apparently lived here, not only did you take my virginity, but you've managed to somehow fall in love with me along the way? Hmm?"

She sounds unhinged. I get up from my seat and stand near her by the bed. "I didn't take your virginity, Izzy. You gave it to me—willingly, from what I remember."

Her mouth drops open at my audacity. But she needs to hear this, so I lean in closer.

"And you loved every minute of it. You begged me to take you. Begged me to make you mine. And you know what, Izzy? I did. Every fucking inch of your body has had me. I've kissed and touched and licked every inch of you. And do you know why?"

The heart rate monitor starts showing elevated numbers, and her breathing has become slightly erratic.

"Because I love you. And you are mine. So, no, this is not a mistake. That life inside of you is a piece of both of us. And I'm going to make sure you and that baby are taken care of for the rest of your lives. With everything I have to give. Do you understand me, Isabella?"

Her mouth must've gone dry because she's struggling to swallow. And now the machine is beeping at an increased rate.

"You...can't be serious?" she finally says, her voice breaking.

"Oh, baby. I've never been more serious about anything in my life."

"But...the team? Your career? That's your life, Ryker, I can't ask you to—"

"You're not asking me to do anything. I'm telling you. You and our baby, you are my life." I take her hand, as cold and tense as it is, and bring it up to my lips as I whisper into it, "And I'm not letting either of you out of my sight. You're mine."

I place a soft kiss on her hand before she slips it out of my grip and brings it up to her chest, cradling it with her other hand.

"So,” I continue, “I'm going to go out there and demand that your doctor sends you home with a lifetime supply of asthma medication. And you're coming home. With me."

I go to the door, and I'm about to walk out when she says, "No. I—can't live with you, Ryker. I—I don't even know you."

My entire world shatters at those words, and I turn to her. "Like hell, you won't. You're not leaving my side."

Before she can protest any further, I walk out and shut the door behind me.

"I guess this calls for a celebration," Row says, raising his beer.

I look up from my seat beside the pool at the back window of my house, relieved to know that Izzy is inside.

A low chuckle escapes me. "I always wanted a family. Never thought in a million years it would be like this." I bring my beer to my lips and suck down the amber liquid.

"It's a hell of a story for your grandkids," he says, leaning back in the lounge chair with one arm over his head and the other holding his bottle near his hips.

"I think she might still be in love with her ex," I admit to him.

"What? That Sincaid dude? Fuck that guy."

"I'm serious, Row."

"So am I," he smirks.

When I don't grin, he sits up again, swings his legs over the lounge, and kicks my chair.

"Hey. You've been through tougher shit. If anyone can figure this out, it's you." He tilts his beer to me before taking another swig. "And if it doesn't work out between you two, just let her know that Uncle Rowan will always be here for her."

He sends me a wink, knowing it'll get under my skin.

"You're a dick, you know that."

He shrugs. "Been called worse."

"She asked to talk to him. Some bullshit about closure. Asked Keelan for his number."

"Is that why you keep looking at her room like you suddenly have supersonic hearing through your eyes?"

"What do you think they're talking about?" I look up at the window to her room again and take another sip of beer.

"Ry. Man. Stop worrying about it. She's your girl. She's having your baby. You've already proven to her that you're not going anywhere. And if that dog of hers is any indication, your own kid is going to love you. I guarantee it."

Wednesday lifts her head from where she's lying between my legs. She must know he's talking about her.

"All I know is that if Sincaid even thinks for one second that he has a chance with her...I'll probably have to serve time in the same cell you were in."

"Nah, what you're implying is some maximum-security shit. And if that's the case, then your name would finally make sense."

We both laugh. Our parents named us Ryker and Rowan just so they could keep the R-names going. It was dumb. And they were most likely high when they came up with the idea. But they saw it through.

Ronnie. Ruth. Rowan. Ryker.

That was before everything went to shit. Before the drugs took my dad, and left my mom alone and fending for us. Falling for any jerk that would help her put food on the table.

Before...Ted.

"It's gotta be hard for her, man. Give her some time."

"Yeah," I agree. "Time—'cause I've got so much of it."

"You're telling the felon who's been locked up for over a decade. I've got the patience of a saint. And lucky for you, I can give you some of what I got. But you're gonna to have to earn it."

"Lucky me," I smirk at him.

"Get up," he says.

"What? No. Can't you see I'm comfortable?"

"Get up, you pussy."

I look at him with a blank stare.

"Do you trust me, Ry?" My brother says—those light green eyes, just like our mother's, stare back at me.

"With my life," I tell him. And he knows it's true. He's proven himself to me.

"Then get the fuck up." I do as he says, setting my beer next to my lounge chair just as he does, and turn to face him.

My older brother is slightly shorter than me, but not by much. His eyes are pretty much at my eye level.

"Close your eyes."

I do. "Now, wha–"

Before I can even finish the question, I'm being shoved, and my body meets the cool of the water in the pool. Caught off guard, some of the water seeps into my nostrils, making me cough like a maniac. I swat an armful of pool water at Rowan.

"You fucking...asshole." I sputter before he lays it on me from the side of the pool.

"Life's not always going to go the way you expect, brother." He's talking over my splashing as I climb out. "But it's your reaction to it that's going to determine whether or not you're happy with the outcome, regardless. Man the fuck up. Stop sulking. And go win her back."

I spit and cough as I lift myself out of the freezing water.

I hadn't bothered to turn the heater on for the pool. Nobody swims down here once it gets below sixty degrees. So I'm fully dressed in sopping clothes when I rise out of the pool and sprint to catch him in a headlock.

He's laughing as he shifts his body weight in an attempt to get out of my grip. "You wanna teach me a lesson? Well, it's my turn to teach you a fucking lesson."

We fall to the ground, still trying to gain the upper hand over the other. But the years locked away have made my brother stronger than he's ever been, and within seconds he has me pinned to the ground with my face in the grass and his knee on my back.

I'm still freezing, but the adrenaline rush from our fight has me laughing too.

"Ahem," a soft voice calls from above me. "Do you guys have any real food here, or do we just survive off Funyuns and beer?"

Izzy is standing a few feet away with her hands on her hips, and we're both looking up at her. Two sopping wet messes. Row lets go of me and stands, reaching a hand down to hoist me up. I take it and jump up in an instant.

"Oh, hey. Sorry, I thought you'd be longer. Anyway, I have my chef coming to make us dinner in a bit, but if you're hungry, I can order some takeout. Or whatever you want. What do you want?" It all comes out in a rush. A little desperate. Even I can hear it.

"Real smooth, Casanova," Row whispers under his breath, loud enough for me to hear.

"You can thank my brother here for the beer and Funyuns. He's kind of a slob."

She glances over to my brother in his too-tight shirt, looking muscular and strong. And I feel insecure for the first time in his presence.

"Well, if you're going to have me under baby mama's house arrest this whole pregnancy, I'm going to need better snacks."

Row gives her a two-finger salute, "On it, Captain."

I look at Rowan, who just shrugs. "I'd say the person creating an entire human should have all the snacks she wants."

"Glad we're on the same page," She says to him and then turns to me. "What's your chef going to cook?"

"Usually something with protein and veggies. I leave it up to him."

"No meat," she says. And goes back inside without another word. This time, Wednesday follows after her, clearly upset that she, too, has no snacks.

"Come on," I tell my brother. "I'm about to buy every fucking snack option imaginable that Randall's has to offer."

Chapter 28

Izzy

Losing your memory is weird.

Part of you thinks that what you're recalling is real. But it feels just as real as the vivid pregnancy dream I had last night. The one where I had magical flying powers and Wednesday was dressed in an apron, cooking me dinner.

So yeah, nothing feels real.

Which is why I decided I needed to go back to work.

A camera in my hand will never lie. It'll reflect to me the world exactly as it is—not just what I imagine it to be.

"The boys have a homestand for the next two weeks. And that's the only reason I'm letting you do this," Rina says from the other side of her desk. Her perfectly manicured nails are typing something out on her phone.

I lift my eyes from the photos that I've taken so far this season.

She was adamant about me taking all the time I needed to recover. And even if I chose to stay home my entire pregnancy, she guaranteed my job would be here whenever I was ready.

So I guess not everything is shit. My idol loves me. I don't know how, but she’s here. We’re cool. And I have something to do other than try to recall what my life has been like in the few months I’ve been here in Houston.

"So, how does this work?" I ask her. "Do we restart the clock on my trial period?"

Rina laughs. "You can't be serious?"

I shrug. Even though the proof of my hard work is sitting in my lap as we speak, I can't say I know what I'm doing. It feels like day one. Except that I'm having a baby with a man who claims to love me. And he works here too.

There's a knock on the door.

"Come in," Rina says, setting her phone down in front of her.

Ryker steps in. "Brought you some lunch." He lifts up a paper bag.

I look at my watch. "It's only 10:30."

"Brunch then." He says with a shrug as he walks over to me.

I still don't know how to react around him. He has memories of us together that just don't exist for me. It feels like we're standing at opposite ends of the same boat, just floating aimlessly toward some unknown destination.

I wish I could just feel. Feel everything I did for him when I let him make me his. Then maybe I'd feel...anything, really. Anything other than frustration and exhaustion.

His concerned eyes dance over my face. "You're sure about this, Iz?"

I look at Rina, who tilts her head, implying she's wondering the same thing.

"I need this," I tell him honestly.

He nods and sets the food down on Rina's desk. He looks like he wants to kiss me. But instead, he just places a tender hand on my shoulder as he walks back out.

"There's some for you too, Rina," he calls over his shoulder before closing the door.

"Lemme guess, vegan?" She scrunches her nose as I turn the bag and see the name of the restaurant and smile. 

It's been almost a week since I moved in with Ryker. And the man doesn't let me out of his sight, just as he promised.

His brother is there too, even though I only see him occasionally since he lives in the pool house and is out looking for work nearly every day.

My brother, on the other hand, is there almost every day—along with Hicks and Fergie. It drives Ryker crazy. I can tell. But he's allowing it, for my sake. They make me laugh and watch cheesy rom-coms with me until I pass out, and Ryker can kick them out. They may as well be living in the house right along with me.

"Well, eat up," says Rina before pushing her chair back and rising. "I have some pre-game interviews to arrange before tonight. The boys will be hitting the ice any minute now if you want to get some practice shots in. Get familiar with the arena again."

"That sounds good," I tell her with a grateful smile.

"I'm glad you're back, Izzy." The way she says it sounds more like a friend than a boss. And it hits me in the chest. I've truly built a life here all these months.

"Thank you," is all I can say.

She grabs her phone, and her heels clack through her office. I can still hear her going down the hall after she's closed the door.

I look around the office and recall what Ryker said to me here right before I had my asthma attack less than a week ago.

"We are so past just friends it's not even fucking funny."

I quickly eat the Mediterranean dish Ryker had ordered for me. And rush out just in time to see the boys hit the ice.

I put the camera up to my eyes, snapping a few photos before looking down and adjusting the settings to work with the lighting. I bring the camera up to my eyes just as Trevor is skating up to me.

"Shit," I breathe out from the unexpected appearance. "Hey."

The last time I saw him in person was California, from what I remember. But I've pulled up articles from the last few months, and one in particular had caught my attention.

I see the scars from his brawl with Ryker across his brow when he removes his helmet.

"Hey, I just wanted to say...you know, hi."

There's a faint flutter in my chest. It's from nerves. I know it is. But seeing him here, I know what it's not.

I used to care for this man. I was about to marry him. But here we are. Our life choices have sent us down two very different paths.

"And congratulations," he continues, motioning to my belly. It's way too early to be showing, but it seems nobody can be around me without acknowledging the elephant in the room.

One of my hands shoots down instinctively to caress that area where I imagine my growing baby to be.

"Thank you," I say from behind the glass.

The sound of the other guys skating makes it hard to have a decent conversation. But Trevor and I talked it out. And I know now we were never going to work. He told me about what happened. And even as he did, the feeling of love I once had for him just wasn’t there.

I had bigger things to worry about these days anyway. And I'm a little grateful that I can't remember our falling out.

It was bad enough that I left Cali and moved in with my brother. But with my hormones all over the place and my brain still in a fog, I'd rather forget it and move on.

We didn't say anything else before he put his helmet back on and skated over to the other end of the ice.

I pick up my camera again and aim it toward the ice, and the first photo I snap is one of Ryker, his eyes boring into me from behind his mask. I can't make out what his face is saying, but his body looks tense.

I lower the camera and look at him.

He's still staring at me as the rest of the team runs drills. I'm sure he has a million questions. But he doesn't make any moves. He turns his attention back to the guys in front of him just as Hicks hits a one-timer toward him, and he catches it in his glove.

Something in me stirs. Feelings that I haven't recognized or put words to. But I feel warmth toward the icy goalie in the net.

His eyes shift back to me, and I snap another photo of him. He wanted me to see him catch it. And I smile at him, finally ready to give the man a real chance—to give us a real chance.

Chapter 29

Ryker

"So you're back on the ice?" Row says between bites of his burger. Veggie burger, to be precise. Because any smell of real meat sends Izzy into a puke frenzy.

Keelan stuffs a sweet potato fry in his mouth, "I mean it's about freakin' time. Augie is good, don't get me wrong, but he's not you."

"We've been getting murdered," Hicks says.

"Yeah, I've noticed. Maybe if you actually scored some goals..." I smirk and fries are thrown at me from all angles.

Izzy walks out of her room.

"You ok there, Izzy McGuire?"

She shrugs, but her face is pale, like she just finished throwing up again. I push my chair back and go to her.

"I'm fine, Goalie-zilla."

The boys all look up from their places at the table.

"Did she just say what I think she said?" Fergie asks first.

"Don't get so excited. It's from an article she read about the fight with Sincaid," I clarify.

"You know you're not supposed to be doing that, Iz. Doc says—"

"I know what the doctor says, Keelan. But neither you nor she have lost your memories before, so when it happens to you, please feel free to tell me how to live my life. In the meantime, fuck off." Izzy storms back into her room, slamming the door shut.

Fergie is about to say something when I hold my hand up to stop him.

"I think we should go," says Keelan, picking up his plate. "Thanks for dinner, B."

Hicks gets up next. The three of them look more defeated than they did at the last game they played.

"Hey," I say to Keelan. He looks over at me. "Just give her some time."

He nods and grabs his coat from the back of his chair, and they all shuffle out.

I lock the front door and turn to see that Rowan is already heading back to his casita.

There's music playing from Izzy's room. Soft, instrumental music.

"Iz," I knock on her door. "Can I come in?"

The music stops, and I hear her approach the door before it's unlocked and pried open. She leans on the doorframe, crossing her arms.

"If you're here to ask me to apologize, I won't."

"I'd never ask you to apologize for how you feel."

She rolls her eyes, but I see the edge of her mouth quirk up. "Thank you."

"Are you going to eat?"

"I'm not really hungry," she says, returning to sit on the edge of her bed.

I don't wait for her to invite me. I go to sit next to her.

We just sit there together and don't say anything for what feels like forever. And just when I'm about to say something, she does too.

"You first," she points at me.

"No, you."

She pauses, her eyes dancing over my features. "Tell me what happened. I can't keep living in this fog, Ryker. I don't know who I can trust or what my relationship is with every person that pops into my daily life. It's confusing. I don't know what to believe."

"I can't do that, Iz. You know that's not going to help."

She closes her eyes and breathes in deeply. "Then...I need to go back."

Her words take me by surprise. "To Keelan's?"

"No," she says quickly. "To LA. To the only place that makes sense—because nothing here does."

"Iz, that's....that's not going to help."

"I already have a job offer. It pays well. They'll provide accommodations and I'll be able to pay for childcare once the baby comes."

This can't be real. She can't be serious right now.

"Izzy, you can't just leave."

"Why not?" She stands. "I'm fucked up, Ryker. I'm about to be a mom, and I'm couch surfing between my brother's house and my baby daddy's house, and I have no stability here. Nothing to keep me here except for some buried memories that my brain doesn't seem to want to remember."

"You have Keelan. You have Rina. You even have the team. They're all here for you."

I reach for her hand, but she snatches it back.

"You have me," I add. "And I know it doesn't make sense to you right now, but that means something. At least it did."

She puts her hands up to her face, and tears slide down her cheeks.

"Iz, we're going to figure this out. Together. You stay here, and you'll never have to be alone. Do you want your Aunt to come stay with us? I'll make it happen. Whatever you want."

"What I want is for you to tell me. Tell me everything."

She's so persistent. It's one of the things I love about her. But doing that would go against her doctor's recommendations. And it means Keelan would actually kill me. He's held back so much for her own good.

Her eyes are piercing into my soul. Pleading. So I pull out my phone and unlock it. Handing it to her.

"All of our texts are there. Pull them up, and read them. Get your answers. But promise me something, Izzy." I hold the phone back when she reaches for it, and I take her chin in my hand, making her face me. "Promise me you'll stay."

She closes her eyes tightly. And I pray that giving her this is just what she needs.

"Fine."

I drop my hand and give her the phone. She takes it and looks up at me.

"Are you sure about this?"

I nod. "I'll be in the library if you need me."

And I walk out, leaving her with access to my entire life as I shut the door behind me.

The fireplace is on in the library, and I see the glow of my laptop screen before I switch on the lights.

"Row?"

"Look at this!" he says, standing up and turning my laptop around.

"What?"

"Read it, you idiot."

I read the text on the screen. "In the case of Mueller v. Hendrix, a son was convicted of arson against the family home. Due to his age, he was tried as an adult. Twenty years later, further evidence proved that the father, Hendrix, had instigated the event in order to collect insurance money."

What the hell?

"Keep reading," he says, holding the laptop with one arm as his fingers play with the stubble on his chin.

"With the help of exoneration attorney Maureen Fisher, the case was re-opened, and Mueller was exonerated. The plaintiff received the original sentence with added charges for lying in a federal court."

I look at my brother. Hope fills his eyes.

"Is this what you want? To hire this lawyer?"

"Ry, we haven't seen our mom because of this asshole. This case right here," he points to the pages. "This changes everything."

"Insurance money?" I ask.

"It makes sense. All he needed to do was pay off one of the drunks from the bar he used to frequent to be a witness."

"Says here she's based out of Dallas."

"The lawyer, right? What's done is done. And I don't regret the choice I made to take your place, Ry. But if this is how we get her back. It's worth a try."

"We'll call the lawyer first thing in the morning." I nod, tentatively sharing his enthusiasm.

He slaps my shoulder and sets the laptop down.

"Looks like you got company," he says, tilting his head toward the door before brushing past her. "Night, Iz."

Goodnight, Rowan," she whispers to him.

"That was fast," I say to her as I move toward the couch.

She tosses the phone at me.

“Can we talk?”

I nod and motion to the couch behind me. ”Sit down, Iz."

She takes the seat next to me. "You hit Trevor…for me."

A chuckle escapes me. " I did."

"Why?"

I stay quiet a moment, deciding whether or not it's worth opening up that wound for her. But I trust her to know what she needs. And if she's asking me. Then she's ready.

"He called you something that you aren't."

She tilts her head and gazes at me. "I talked to him, you know."

Oh shit. Here it goes. I've been dying to find out what that exchange at the arena was about.

"Trish cornered him. She was always jealous of me—of my relationship with him. He came over to pick me up for our anniversary, and she tried to seduce him, dragging him into my room. I walked in on them."

Of course. Of course, he'd turn this around and try to make himself out to be the victim. I can feel the rage bubbling up and I don't know if I'll be able to control it much longer.

I take a deep breath before I say, "And you believe him?"

"Please,” she scoffs,” I may have been a virgin, but that doesn't make me gullible. He tried to tell me when it happened, but I was so pissed at the time. I saw red. I threw his ring at him, and I had an asthma attack in the middle of the fight. I refused to talk to him after that. For me, it was over. But I called Trish the other day."

I dipped my head, listening to her up until this point. But this is new information, and I perk up.

"And what did she say?"

She throws her head back to rest it on the couch. "That it's true. They had never done anything. She admitted she made a pass at him, and I walked in at the worst possible moment. But she heard about the incident on the plane. And she felt so guilty. She's been wanting to come clean. They did eventually get together, but it was only after I refused to speak to either of them."

Okay. So this is it. She's not leaving me to go to Cali. And she's not leaving me to pursue a new career. She's leaving me...for her ex. I can't help the breath of frustration that comes out of me, and I slump forward, resting my elbows on my knees as I hold my head.

Izzy shifts beside me.

"Ryker."

"What?" I say, trying my best to hold back the anger that I'm feeling at this fucked-up situation.

"Look at me," she demands.

I do. I look at her. And those beautiful brown eyes are looking at me, burning a hole into my heart again. I thought I lost her on that plane. I thought she'd never leave that hospital bed. But for some reason, this hurt feels far worse. Like a betrayal.

"And none of that matters," she says, still holding my gaze.

"What are you saying?" My arms fall to my sides as I sit up again, trying to hear her out.

"None of that matters. Because Trevor and I were never meant to be. To this day, I doubt he knows my favorite color or what movie I love to watch over and over. He doesn't know me. He doesn't love me. He might like the idea of me. But we talked. And us splitting up, it was the right thing."

"So you don't want to go back to him?" I clarify.

Izzy pushes me back on the couch and swings one leg over me until she's straddling me. "No. And do you know why?"

She has her arms around my neck and is looking down at me. She pulls my hair back so that I'm face-to-face with her. I think I might be a little in shock.

"Because even though I can't remember. I know that you're the man I love. You're the man who makes me feel the most free. The most cared for. The most....me."

"How can you be so sure of that?"

She chuckles, running her fingers through my hair and eliciting a groan to rumble in my chest. "Because I'm having your baby, Ryker. And I wasn't a virgin because I was saving myself for marriage. I was saving myself for the man that I loved. A man that respected me enough to allow me to decide what was right for me. And didn't push it. And I don't know every detail of what happened between us. And maybe I never will. But I know myself well enough to trust that I made the right choice by choosing you."

Nothing, nothing in the world can feel as amazing as this moment right here. Maybe when I'm holding our baby in my arms and looking at this beautiful woman and the life we created together—maybe it'll surpass the feelings that are rising in me right now.

But this. This is just for me. For us.

I bring my hand up to her neck and pull her toward me. Those gorgeous siren eyes move from my lips and back up to my gaze, and before she can pull away or come to her senses, I take her lips and kiss her with all the built-up, pent-up frustration of the last few months pouring out of me.

She leans into it with her entire body. My arms wrap around her to hold her closer as she straddles me. I move from her lips down her neck, tasting and savoring the feel of her skin on my lips.

I've missed her. I've missed this.

For a while, I wondered if she'd ever come back to me. If it was possible for us to have a child but share nothing else.

But as she moans and my name slips from her lips, none of that matters. Because Izzy is choosing me. Not because she's having my baby. But because she knows in her soul that I would never stop choosing her, too.

She reaches between us and pulls her shirt over her head. The skirt she's wearing is making it easy for me to reach down, move her panties to the side, and feel her wetness.

She moans again, and the sound sends waves of pleasure straight to my cock.

And then I remember.

She may be pregnant with my child, but as far as Izzy knows, she's a virgin. She doesn't remember her first time. This is all new to her.

And I can't help but think this might be the most amazing and just bizarre gift we could get.

A second chance at a first time.

She must notice my hesitation or read my thoughts because she grinds her hips into me, and with her voice low just enough for me to hear, she says, "I want this."

And that's all the permission I need. I trust Izzy to know what's best for her.

I might not always agree. But my girl is smart. She is more than capable, and right now, I very much agree with her.

"I want you, Wildfire."

Her eyes widened, and for a moment, I felt that jolt of excitement course through me. That maybe she remembers. The memories have flooded back. Despite what the doctors say about it, they will most likely return in small, incremental stages, if they ever did at all. I stayed hopeful. Being with this woman has made me this way.

Even though she doesn't know it.

"The texts," she reminds me. "That's what you called me. You're Goalie-zilla," she says with a smirk. "And I'm..."

Before she can finish her statement, I'm pulling her back onto me. Because after all this time, she is exactly what that name implies. She burns everything in her vicinity. She makes people light up.

And it's so fitting. Considering a wildfire is why my brother took my place all those years ago. What started as a hate-fueled thing has turned into the most loving thing I can imagine.

I pull her to me as I lift us both up, turn, and place her on the spot where I was just sitting. She looks up at me with eyes full of wonder as I kneel before her. I bring my hands to her thighs and slowly move up them until I reach the hem of her panties and tug them down just as deliberately. Her eyes are on me the whole time and I feel the skin underneath my hands pebble with goosebumps.

"You cold, baby?"

A quick chuckle escapes her, "No, I don't think I've ever felt hotter."

I pull the panties all the way off and swing them on one finger. Her cheeks flush, and her eyes are hooded.

"What are you going to do with those?" she asks, curiosity dripping off every word.

"Well, you once asked me if I was into BDSM."

Her features shift as if she's scared of what I'm about to do.

She gulps. "And are you?"

I stop swinging the panties and lean forward to grab both her hands that have been planted on the couch at her sides.

"I don't know, baby. I guess we'll have to find out if either of us do. So let's start, light. Since this is your first time and all."

The laugh that escapes my girl's lips is golden. I could hear it all day, every day. But she willingly gives me her hands, and I tie the panties tight around her wrists until they're secured together.

"Now, Wildfire. I'm about to go down on you. And I'm not going to stop until you're crying out my name and riding my face."

Izzy gulps again, but this time I think her mouth has gone dry.

"And when you do, baby, I better not see those hands anywhere except right over your head."

I move her arms into position, causing her to relax back into the couch even more.

"Do you understand me, Izzy? They don't move."

She nods her agreement.

"Let me hear you say it, baby."

"Y-Yes," she breathes out. Her chest rising and falling faster than normal.

"And whatever happens, I need you to breathe, Izzy."

She takes in a deep breath and I notice her chest start to slow.

"That's my good girl."

Her lips part slightly, and she relaxes even more as I bring my hands back up to her waist and dip my head below her skirt. I inhale that beautiful scent that drives my entire being crazy. And I open her legs so I can run my tongue over the soft exposed skin there.

She whimpers, and I feel her jump a bit at the sensation, but she sinks in further as I continue to explore her with my tongue.

It doesn't take long until my girl is grinding her hips onto my face, craving more friction, and I just know she must be struggling to keep her hands firmly in place. She whimpers as I ravish her—licking, sucking, and tasting her until she's a wet mess on my face.

Then slowly, ever so slowly, I push into her entrance. Izzy gasps but cries out, "Don't stop."

So I push further into her warmth until my finger is all the way in her. I look up at her writhing above me. "Oh god, please keep going. Please."

And with that, I move in and out of her as I keep my tongue firmly, rhythmically on her clit, running circles over it.

She cries out, "Ryker, I'm so close." She's riding my face harder now, and I don’t stop until she's screaming, her hands coming to my head and holding me in place as she rides out her pleasure.

Her breathing is frantic, but it starts to calm after a moment, and she softens her hold on me. I kiss her center one more time before lifting my head from under her skirt.

"Such a rebel in bed," I remind her.

Her eyes flutter open, and she looks down at me in a panic when she realizes she used her restrained hands.

"How should I punish you for being so bad?" I tease, kissing the inside of each of her thighs.

She laughs nervously, "I might have an idea."

Chapter 30

Izzy

I'm so beyond wet and turned on at this point.

Ryker has me floating on clouds with the way he just made my body convulse with pleasure. And I'm nervous about it, but there's also nothing more that I want than the feel of him inside me.

He looks up at me with playfulness in his eyes.

Is this what we do? How we are with each other? So free. So unbridled. I never thought sex could feel so—unifying.

But it does. Ryker makes me feel safe and loved, and cherished.

"I want you inside me."

A low rumble escapes his chest like I just said the magic word, and he rises. He's still fully clothed, but I'm half naked. He slips his arm behind my back and another under my knees and lifts me effortlessly from his couch in the library.

When our faces are close enough, he kisses me again. And the taste of me is on him. It drives me wild. I push my tongue into him, teasing and tasting him right back as he carries me out of the library, down the hallway, and into his room.

I haven't been in his room. But something about it feels oddly familiar. Everything is in dark shades of deep hues that give the space a masculine feel. He drops me onto the bed, and I can't help the yelp of excitement that comes out of me.

"You want me inside of you, Wildfire? Then we're going to have to do this the right way."

He turns to kick the door closed and locks it.

"In here," he says, approaching me. "You can scream as loud as you want. Call my name. Be as loud as you want, baby. Do you know why?"

I shake my head, unable to speak, as this beautiful man reaches behind him and tugs off his shirt, throwing it to the side. "Those dark pads you see on my walls are soundproofing."

I look around at what I originally thought was some form of funky art.

"Why do you have soundproofing in your room?" Now, I'm more than curious. I doubt he plays any obnoxious instruments.

But the dark chuckle that escapes him has me even more curious as he comes back to stand before me, unbuckling his jeans.

"Let's just say I know how loud you can get, Wildfire. And that's there to muffle the sounds of your pleasure."

"My what?" Now I sit up straight, pushing up onto my hands as he slips his pants down.

"You get loud, baby girl. Especially when you come on my cock."

Oh. My.

This man cannot be serious right now. He's making this up. I'm dreaming. I came, I passed out. I must still be in my post-sex haze in the library.

But when his erection springs forward in front of me, and I see what I've been working with...I totally get it. I fear that he might rip me in two from the pounding he gives.

And who the hell am I to be thinking like this? The mouth on this man has me thinking like him, too.

"That said," he leans over me, making me push back down onto his mattress. "Do you want to come again, Wildfire?"

A squeak is my only response. But it was a "yes." A definite "yes."

"Then wrap your legs around my hips, baby, and take me in. I want to see this pretty little skirt bouncing around you as you take my cock, Wildfire."

I'm melting. Officially melting from the heat of this man's words. The way he looks at me—touches me—wants me—

He says I'm his Wildfire, but I'm the one caught in his wildfire at the moment. I do as he says and wrap my legs around him, bringing him closer to me until he's notched at my entrance.

"Breathe, Izzy," he coaches me. "Breathe, and take me like the good girl you are."

With that encouragement, I pull him with my heels closer into me until I feel him entering. And what I thought might feel like burning or pain feels like pure ecstasy. And with that, I pull him into me until he's fully seated inside me. He leans forward and kisses me, taking my tongue into his mouth, and having this man, my man, so close in this way feels euphoric.

He releases my lips and whispers, "Hold on, baby."

Then he pulls out and slams back into me, causing me to cry out in the most amazing pleasure I've ever felt. He does it again. And again. And each time I scream out something unintelligible as I take him in deeper and deeper.

I'm a puddle underneath him, and his hands are roving my body until his hand settles between my legs, and he's doing circles over my clit, using the wetness between us to rub me as he pins me down into the bed with each thrust.

Suddenly, I feel that burst of pleasure from the slow, tantalizing build-up, and I find myself screaming his name out with no regard for what anyone in the neighborhood might hear. He keeps moving until he finally stills and I feel the warm spurts of his release inside of me, filling me up with his essence. He drops his head to mine as we both try to calm down our breathing.

"That...that was amazing." I finally say.

And when he lifts his head to look at me, those hazel green eyes are full of love and quickly are replaced with a smug motion toward the walls.

"You see what I mean?" he says with a smirk.

After a quick shower where we kiss and hold each other for much longer than we need to, I decide I am really hungry. When I walk into the kitchen with my wet hair tied up and still dripping onto my shoulder, I don't expect to see Rowan there. I jump when I turn more lights on and see him sitting at the kitchen nook.

He laughs, "Didn't mean to scare you."

"It's ok. Sometimes I forget there are other people around."

He picks up his beer and smiles coyly, "Clearly."

I instantly flush.

Soundproof my ass.

I ignore his comment and head over to the fridge in search of something to eat. But something I overheard them talking about in the library is still on my mind.

"Hey," I say from the fridge. He looks up from his book. "I know it's probably none of my business, but when you and Ryker were upstairs, you were talking about taking his place. What was that all about?"

His lips tighten as if considering whether or not to tell me. Then, he grabs his beer and takes another swig of it.

"I assume he hasn't told you then? Or if he did, you...forgot."

Most likely. But it seemed personal—too personal for me to even bring up.

"I'll admit, I don't think I know anything about his family."

"Well, Izzy, that may be for the best. We didn't have the best upbringing. We made it out alive at least...all things considered."

"What do you mean?"

He leans back in his chair and throws an arm over the empty chair next to him. "Let's just say we come from the part of town that makes the other half look good."

"Did you grow up here in Houston?"

"Trying to get the lowdown on your baby daddy before you decide if it's worth staying?" he asks.

“I just want to understand him better. I think a person’s family has a lot to do with who they are.”

There's the soft patter of paws that enter the kitchen, and I turn to see Ryker leaning on the entrance behind Wednesday. His hair is wet, too, and he's wearing nothing but a pair of low-hung joggers.

"Your girl wants to know about dear mammy and pappy," Rowan says teasingly.

"Hmm," is all Ryker responds before crossing to the fridge and pulling out leftovers. "Sit down then, Wildfire."

"I mean, you had a whole life before you even met my brother in college. So, where did you grow up? Also, did we have this conversation already? It just feels like something we've never broached."

"No, we didn't. But I get why you're curious," says Ryker, putting the food in the microwave and setting the timer on it before he turns back to me and Rowan. "We grew up in a place called Hidden Acres. And don't let the name fool you. It was nothing like this ridiculous neighborhood."

"It was a mobile manor," Rowan chimes in.

"A what?"

"You know, a caravan court. A camper colony."

Ryker must see my puzzled face because he finally lends a hand. "A trailer park, Izzy."

"Oh," I say with a nod, trying my best not to appear judgmental.

"Anyways, in our Prefab Home Village—"

"Trailer park," Ryker corrects him.

"Trailer Park," Rowan repeats. "We had this neighbor we called Two-buck Tommy. He lived next door. Weird kid with greasy hair and always smelled like clam chowder. He used to bet us to do the craziest shit."

"He'd throw rocks at our window at night and tell us to do stuff like put a scorpion in our pa's shoe," Ryker adds as he leans on the kitchen counter with his arms crossed, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Or that time he dared us to jump off our roof and into the inflatable pool between our houses," Rowan laughs. "I broke my ankle on that one. He paid a dollar to each of us if we both pulled it off. We always wondered where Two Buck got the dollar bills to pay us. Everyone we knew was broke."

"Turns out Tommy's mom was a hooker," Ryker interjects. "And his dad was a drug dealer that she worked for. Poor kid had nothing better to do than listen to his mom with clients day in and day out. So he bugged us with dares to keep himself entertained."

They both have small smiles on their faces that start to fade.

"So what happened?"

The food beeps in the microwave, and I watch as Ryker finds a plate to slide the heated food onto, grabs a fork from a drawer, and brings it over to me, pulling out the chair next to me and taking a seat as he continues.

"Well, we kept this whole song and dance up until we were teens. Two Buck was just a little older than Rowan. His dares kept getting more and more dangerous. I think the kid was just fucked up. He'd been smoking his dad's stash and skipping school. One day he offered to pay us a thousand dollars to set our stepdad's car on fire."

"Wait, your stepdad?"

"Our real dad had been hooked on the meth Two Buck's dad sold. He OD'd when we were little. Eight and Ten," Ryker says, pointing to himself and then to Rowan.

I look between the both of them. I don't think they've revisited this particular story together in a while. It shows in the solemn, unspoken exchanges between them.

"We hated our stepdad," Ryker says. "But he had a job, and he wasn't a meth head, so I guess that was good enough for our mom. Even though he cheated on her with Two Bucks’ mom, and she had to have known."

"Of course, she knew," Rowan says, shaking his head and finishing off his beer.

"So what happened? Did you take the dare?"

Ryker and Rowan look at each other again. Rowan speaks first. "We did."

I notice Ryker's hesitation to look my way.

"Ryker was underage. But he was a smart kid. I didn't want to see him throw his life away. I knew he could go so much further than I ever would," Rowan says, looking at his little brother.

Ryker runs a hand through his hair, "And you know if I could I'd take it all back. I'd throw the money back in Two Buck's face if it meant I'd get all those years back with you, Row."

"I know."

Realization dawns on me.

"Ryker was the one who set it on fire," I breathe out. "You took the fall," I say to Rowan.

He looks at Ryker, and I follow suit. "I let him,” he says. “But he was older than I was, and they wanted to charge him with attempted murder as an adult. The blaze spread into a small brush fire that swept through the park. Nobody was hurt. But it could’ve been so much worse."

"How old were you?"

"Eighteen," Rowan says.

He was so young. His entire life ahead of him.

"The court decided to lower my charges to aggravated assault and arson. I served sixteen years." He lifts his eyes to his brother and taps the table, pointing a finger at him, "And I'd do it all over again in a heartbeat if it meant that you got to live your life and get out of that dump for the both of us, Ryker."

The air is thick with emotion, and I feel the tears welling up in my eyes at the love these two brothers share and the shit they went through and have overcome. And I have so much respect for them.

"So, what happened with your stepdad?"

"Dumbass burned his hand trying to put out the fire and pressed charges,” Ryker says. “He worked with his hands, so he ended up collecting insurance and disability. He has our mom trapped like a prisoner in her own home. He's convinced her that she'll never be able to make anything of herself. We heard him do it for years.” Ryker shakes his head at the memories. “I’ve tried to convince her to leave. I told her I would buy her a house. What good is this money I have if—” he waved his hand overhead and clamped his lips together.

"I—I'm so sorry. That's horrible. I don't know what's worse. Losing both your parents or losing one and knowing you still have one that you'll never be able to see."

The tears slip onto my cheeks, and Ryker looks over at me, taking my chin in his hand and swiping his thumb over my cheek softly.

"Well, we're hoping to change that," Rowan says, ripping his eyes away from the tender moment taking place across from him. "We're going to nail the bastard. And we're going to get her out of that hellhole."

I turn to Ryker, whose half-smile sends my heart into overdrive. He cares for his people. In the same way he fights for his team on the ice, he fights for the people he loves. And my heart swells for this man even more.

"Eat, baby," he motions to the cooling plate of food in front of me. I pick up the fork and shovel some into my mouth.

"So," I say between bites, "how are we going to do this?"

Chapter 31

Ryker

The announcer's voice comes on over the loudspeaker. "And tonight's starting goalie is back after an 8-game suspension. Houston's very own "Bear in the Net" Ry-y-kerrrr Ba-lin-gerrrr!"

The cheers from the crowd erupt all around me as I skate over to my place at the net.

It's been weeks since I've played. And with Izzy and Trevor finally clearing the air. It feels like we can too. And it helps that I didn't break his nose like I had feared. He's one of my D-men, after all. I can't play this game without him.

I can already hear the things the sports commentators must be saying to the audience watching at home. Keelan was amongst them, still recovering from his broken leg. He'll be out for the rest of the season.

Sincaid skates up to his position near the red dot. He nods at me, a sign that he's got my back. And I return it with a nod of my own.

The rest of the boys take their positions, and right before the puck drops, I look over to the area where Izzy is already snapping photos. She must see me because she lifts a hand over her camera and waves. Then she turns and shows me her jersey.

My jersey. The number 33 is prominently displayed on her back, and my name is scrawled across the top.

She turns and the light in her eyes distracts me for a split second before I see the shuffle at center ice.

We don't win.

Even with the crazy amount of saves and shots on goal from the Heatwave. We still lose 2-1. But we fight for every second, our team coming together like I haven't seen them do in so long. I get the feeling that this is the beginning of something good for us.

The plane crash. The injuries. The fights amongst ourselves. In a really weird and unexpected way, it's brought us even closer together.

The opposing team is taking time to salute their goalie for the win behind me. I feel a heavy hand on my back as I make my way off the ice.

I turn to see Zane O'Connor.

“Welcome back, Balsy,” his grin is wide behind his mask.

Zane lived in my condo. We’d see each other all the time. Sometimes even riding the elevator together in silence after defeats like this.

“You ever coming back to the building, or are you a whipped man living in suburbia now?”

We make our way down the hall toward the Heatwave locker room. I can already hear the loud chatter of our teammates echoing down the hall.

“You know, Z. I’ve been thinking about it. I don’t think a penthouse is the best place for a stroller and crib.”

‘I wouldn’t think so,” he agrees. “Wow, daddy Balsy. I wonder how grouchy your kid’s gonna be.”

I hit his arm, and he feigns pain as he rubs it, laughing.

“You have it,” I say without thinking.

He stops laughing, “Have what? Your kid?”

“No, you idiot. The penthouse.”

He stops right before we enter the locker room. “Are you serious?”

I turn to him, taking off my red and yellow mask and holding it under my arm.

“Dead, serious. I thought you loved that place.”

“No, yeah, I do...it’s just.”

I think back to the times I’ve had him over. My neighbors.

“Your step-sister and her little friend?” I cock my head. “They’re quiet. Keep to themselves, mostly.”

He scoffs.

“Say the word and I’ll talk to Frank. It’s yours.”

He hesitates for only a split-second before slapping me on the back again and saying, “Ok, brother.”

We shuffle inside and the boys are already taking their turns in the showers and throwing around tape from their sticks at each other.

“Hey, Balsy bear! What's it like coming back to a still losing team after so long?" Hicks is at my side in nothing but a towel and jamming a hairbrush into my face like he's an interviewer.

"Oh, you know what they say," I play, "the underdogs get the biggest comebacks."

The boys hoot all around me.

"And the season's not over yet," I add.

"No, it's not!" yells Fergie from his place at his stall.

The hollering dies down as heels click against the floor just outside the locker room. "Everyone decent?" Rina calls from the hall.

"When are we ever?" Zane answers back, already stripping out of his top, revealing his wall of muscles.

"Cover up," I say, throwing my towel at him after wiping the sweat off my forehead.

Rina steps in, "Hell of a game, boys."

"Thanks, Ri-na," we all chant in mock schoolboy voices.

She rolls her eyes.

"Balinger, Sincaid. You’re both wanted in the press room. Get changed and meet me out there. Fergie, you too."

Fergie salutes her as he's bent over his skates, unlacing.

She turns back to me and Trevor.

"If they ask about the brawl again, I've come up with some talking points,” she says, reaching into the pocket of her blazer.

I hold a hand up. "That won't be necessary."

Trevor looks up from his stall and over at me. I walk over to him, still in my skates, and throw an arm around his shoulder, "We're good now."

Rina places an unbelieving hand on her hip and cocks her head to the side," Really? I'm supposed to believe that you're suddenly friends."

"There was a misunderstanding," Trevor offers from under the weight of my arm. And the rookie and I exchange knowing glances. "We're good."

"Fine," Rina says, turning on her heels and walking out before saying over her shoulder. "Five minutes, boys."

I ruffle Trevor's hair, and he pushes me off playfully but forcefully enough to remind me that he's one of the toughest D-men out there. And I get a flash of hope that we might actually turn things around in this team.

I look for Izzy in the sea of faces in the press room, but she's not there. We get through the interviews. And just as suspected, everyone wants to know about the beef between me and Sincaid. And how Keelan plays into it all.

We leave Izzy out of it.

Trevor and Izzy kept their relationship under wraps when they were together. And that's now history. No need to bring it up.

But I miss my girl.

I'm buzzing to get out from behind the curious faces of the press. Cameras all around. Mics are catching my every sound. When we're done, I reach into my pocket just as a text comes through.

Izzy: Section 117, Row Q

Weird.

I push past the remaining press and make my way back into the arena. It's almost completely empty, save for the custodians and Zamboni drivers.

When I look up over the home bench, I don't just see Izzy, but three figures. All wearing number 33 jerseys. When they see me, they all stand and wave their foam fingers, cheering at me.

I take tentative steps up the cement steps to meet them, and now I can distinguish them.

Izzy, Rowan and..."Mom?"

"Hi Rykie." There's a softness in her face. One I haven't seen in a while. Not since before.

"What are you—?" I look to Rowan, who is smirking.

"Ted's been arrested," he says. It had been less than a week since we reached out to the exoneration lawyer.

"Did your lawyer work that fast?" I ask, still confused.

"No, it was unrelated. But he'll be put away and well," he motions to our mother.

She looks between both of us, a woman broken and beaten for so many years—with two massive men for children that couldn't protect her from her own personal prison. She's here. She's free.

Izzy raises her camera and snaps a photo of the three of us.

"I'm sorry," she says, biting her lip. "I couldn't just let the moment pass."

My mom looks at Izzy with loving eyes. "I've met your girlfriend," she smiles at me from ear to ear.

"She's a little more than that, Mom," I tug Izzy to me and she melts into my side, rising up on her tippy toes to give me a kiss.

"So I've heard," she says, elbowing Rowan.

"Were you guys here the whole time?"

"Izzy invited us to see you play," Rowan admits.

And I look at my girl, those siren eyes full of pride.

"Is that right?" I say to her, and she giggles next to me.

"Ruth. Rowan. Let's go to the house,” she says. “I already have dinner going. You're going to love it."

Izzy lets go of me and grabs my mom's hand and leads her down the stairs. But before my mom follows her down, she stops in front of me and opens her arms. I take the frail woman into my arms, kiss the top of her head, and squeeze her gently. She all but melts into me and Rowan comes up next to me and hugs us both.

"I'm..." she chokes on her emotion-filled words. "I'm just so proud of the men you both are. I know it wasn't because of anything I did. You boys are just so good."

She cries into my chest, and Rowan squeezes tighter. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you,” she sobs. “To see you grow. To be present in your lives."

"It's not your fault, ma," Rowan says. He's the very figure of forgiveness as he steps back and assesses the woman. "And besides, you're here now."

"And just in time," Izzy adds. A hand fluttering to her stomach.

My heart swells. If I were the Grinch, this must be what he felt when his heart grew three sizes.

My mom's crying turns to a sniffle, and she backs away from me. Reaching for Izzy's hand again as my girl leads her down and out of the arena.

Rowan slaps my arm. "Ready to go home, big boy?"

I shrug, looking down at the ice before us, and to the net where I spend every game and practice.

"It should've been you down there," I tell him. "You taught me everything I know."

Rowan stands next to me and slips a hand into his pocket.

"We all get our moment, brother. For goodness. For light. This is yours. Don't waste it thinking of what could've been." He elbows my side. "But you're right...I'm a much better goalie," he laughs, following the women down the steps.

And it’s no wonder where I got the reputation of being such an ass from.

At, home, Izzy brings the lasagna out of the oven.

"When did you have time to cook?" I ask from my seat at the table where she insisted I stay.

"I have my sources," she winks at me.

I look around the table full of plates. "Are we expecting more people?"

She bites her lip and hides a grin.

"Wildfire..."

Ding-dong. The chime of the doorbell wails through the space.

"Maybe," she says, leaving the steaming dish on the table and rounding the corner outside of the dining room to answer the door.

I hear the cheers of a group in the foyer. Voices I know well and some that I can barely make out.

I rise from my chair as a gaggle of male and female voices intermingle and echo down the hall. I see the balloons first.

Welcome back.

I was suspended, not raised from the dead.

I see Hicks, Fergie, Zane and Sincaid first. They're followed by Rina, Aunt Ginny and my crutch-bearing best friend, Keelan.

"You guys. This is so unnecessary. Really," I say pointedly to Izzy.

Aunt Ginny pushes past the guys and walks over to me, taking my face into her hands and kissing both my cheeks. Peering into my eyes, she says, "Oh boy. He doesn't know, does he?"

My eyes bounce from her face over to Izzy, and then the guys are all looking at me with so much expectancy.

"Know what?"

"Party's not for you, dumbass," Hicks says, placing a bag of chips and dip on the table.

My mom, then? Where is she anyway? I thought she'd be here.

Izzy walks up to me and wraps her arms around my waist. Nuzzling my chest and I see it in her eyes when she looks up at me.

"You still owe me a new windshield, Goalie-zilla."

I didn't tell her about that.

I look at Keelan, and he's smiling ear to ear. A proud big brother smile on his lips.

My gaze returns to Izzy and there's that light in her eyes. The look I saw earlier when she showed me she was wearing my jersey.

"You...you remember," I stutter.

Izzy smiles. "It's fuzzy. But it's all coming back. It feels like my brain has been flooded with memories that were locked away somewhere."

I don't know what to say. She remembers. Which means she's back. The silver balloon floating amongst a bouquet of brightly colored balloons suddenly makes sense.

Everyone is still quiet, surrounding me.

"Well then, that sounds like a cause for celebration, Wildfire."

Hicks and Fergie hoot first, picking up the bags of party supplies and beers and carrying them into the kitchen. Everyone else finally moves about, patting Izzy on the shoulder and finding their seats.

Izzy is still hugging me when she looks up at me. And in those beautiful brown eyes I see more than just the woman I love.

I see my future.

"Marry me," I tell her.

She shakes her head like I just said the craziest thing.

"What, Ryker...we don't have to."

"Izzy, be my wife. Have my child. Wear my jersey. And make me the happiest man in the world. Marry me," I say again.

She slips out from under my arm. The boys go silent around us. Sincaid drops whatever bag he is carrying and scrambles to pick it up.

Putting a hand on her hip and popping it out she says, "Only if you ask nicely, Goalie-zilla."

The dare in her eyes has my insides jumping with excitement at the challenge.

"No."

"Ask nicely, you oaf."

The guys around us start chuckling.

"Marry me."

"Please," she adds.

I roll my eyes and pull her to me by the waist, dipping low to kiss that smart mouth of hers. I don't even care who is around to watch.

Our lips pull apart and I breathe out, "Please."

She smiles, satisfied, and kisses me back, wrapping her arms around my neck.

"Get a room!" Keelan calls from the corner, trying hard to maneuver onto the chair at the end of the table.

I'm about to do just that when there's a honk from the driveway.

Izzy lets go and cocks her head in confusion.

"Rowan?" I ask.

"Maybe," she shrugs.

I pull her with me to the front, and when I open the door, the revamped orange and yellow Bronco I ordered for her in the custom Heatwave colors is sitting out front, gleaming under the lamppost.

"Did somebody order a new windshield?" Rowan asks as he jumps out of the driver’s seat and opens the door for his mother, who slides out after him.

Izzy freezes next to me.

"This is..."

"Your dad's car," I say.

"But it's...so different," she says, stepping out into the driveway.

"It's restored, Izzy. It just needed a little love. And it's good as new."

She turns to me and grabs my hand closest to her, whispering, "Thank you."

My mom and brother walk up to us and we all head inside to celebrate in the middle of a loss all that we've won.

And none of it is what any of us would've expected.

Epilogue

One Year Later | Izzy

"She'll be as snappy as her great Auntie," Aunt Ginny says at the cooing baby in her arms.

We're just resting in the family box of the arena, waiting for the boys to come back after showering from the game. The door opens and we look away from the blushing child to see Rina completely frazzled.

"Oh, great. What now?" I ask.

She rolls her eyes, "He insists on doing it, that brother of yours. And the team doc is no help. He's not ready. Playing is one thing, but this is just ridiculous. I saw him wincing just trying to walk down the aisle after the bachelor party."

She takes a seat on the couch across from me, exasperated.

"So let him," Aunt Ginny says. "He'll learn the hard way."

Rina shakes her head. "So stubborn you Landrys can be."

"And you love us more for it," I remind her.

She stretches out her arms toward Aunt Ginny and flexes her fingers as if to say, 'Give me that baby.’ Aunt Ginny kisses the baby's head and passes her reluctantly to Rina.

Baby Stella is the first Heatwave baby.

Ryker and I finally tied the knot last month, just a few months after having her. And the boys constantly pass her around as gently as if she were the Stanley Cup itself. It's sweet to see my baby girl surrounded by so much love.

The door opens and my husband steps in, handsome as ever in his Heatwave gear.

My husband. I still can't get used to it.

Rina looks at him and shakes her head, "Uh-uh. I just got her." She tugs the now-sleeping baby closer to her chest.

"You get one minute," Ryker says to her. Rina pouts but turns her attention back to the baby.

"And how's Mama Wildfire?" He says, coming up from behind the couch and hugging me. He places a kiss on my head, and my body reacts like it always does to his tenderness.

"Wondering if you'll finally just give in and take one for the team," I say, the dare lingering between us.

"Absolutely not," he replies sternly.

"Come on," Aunt Ginny and I say in unison.

"You might actually be good at it," Aunt Ginny says.

"No," he says. "But your minute is up, Rina."

Ryker stalks over to her, and she reluctantly gives up the baby.

He sits in the empty space between Aunt Ginny and me and snuggles the tiny baby in his bulging arms. I grab my phone and snap a picture. Loving how much my husband adores his daughter.

"Send it to me," he says. "I need more pictures of her."

"Oh my god, Balsy. You don't need any more pictures of anything. In fact, I'm putting you on a social media probation."

"What?" he asks, cocking his head in his signature way. "The fans need to know what's going on every second of my day."

His sarcasm drips from his sly grin, and Rina pulls out her phone.

"Exhibit A," she begins as she scrolls through his posts. "Boiled eggs. The breakfast of champions. With a picture of the eggs sitting in the saucepan. Not even boiling."

"It got eight thousand likes," he says with a shrug. His big hand plays with Stella's tiny fingers.

"Exhibit B," Rina continues. "This one just says ‘hashtag diapers.’ And you didn't even use an actual hashtag. Ryker!" She points to the picture as she turns the phone to us. "That's an open shitty diaper!"

Aunt Ginny lets out a boisterous laugh. "Rina, you can't ask professional hockey players to be masters of all things."

"No, Ginny, you're absolutely right. I can't." She tosses the phone to the empty spot next to her. "So that's why Ryker's on social media probation. Focus on hockey, Balsy."

"Oh, gee, thanks, Ri," he says with even more sarcasm.

And Rina glares at him knowing exactly the game he's been playing.

He kept up his end of the deal. And he's gone from asshole, Goalie-zilla to lovable, Daddy-zilla.

His social media accounts @DaddyBearBalsy garner over 2 million likes each. Mission accomplished if you ask me.

The familiar sound of Ante Up comes on through the arena speakers, and we all groan. DJ Nova's voice rings out through the loudspeaker.

"Heatwave fans, I welcome you to After-Party Fridays at the Space City Arena-a-a."

The four of us, including Baby Stella, who's now wide awake thanks to the wild personality blasting through the speakers, all get up and go to the opening overlooking the arena.

There, in the middle of the ice, is the rolled-out and sectioned-off dance floor. Every home game Friday has now been turned into an epic after-party for the fans. It's a place for them to dance and let loose, and a few of the Heatwave players always make an appearance.

"Put your hands together for the spark that keeps the Heatwave oh so hot! Ke-ee-la-an La-an-dryyy!"

The crowd starts to gather as Keelan does a backflip onto the rink.

Rina groans next to me, "I can't watch."

"He'll be fine," Ryker says on the other side of me, still holding baby Stella.

"Mister Landry, who do you call to do battle today, sir?"

Keelan moonwalks over to DJ Nova's booth at Center Ice and grabs the mic.

"I call forth...my brother from another brother's same mother..."

The crowd goes quiet. Probably just as confused as we all are.

"Big B" Balinger!" Keelan yells into the mic.

"OH SNAP!" DJ Nova holds a fist to his mouth as if he can't believe it.

"Big B Balinger! You have been served, sir," his voice rings out through the loudspeakers.

"What?!" We almost all say in unison from atop the arena.

"Is he talking about Rowan?" I ask.

Ryker's eyes go wide just as his brother steps up to the rink wearing a bright blue silk robe. His head is covered with a hoodie.

"What the hell?" Ryker says under his breath.

Aunt Ginny, Rina and I all exchange confused looks.

The music grows louder. And the gathered crowd cheers just as Ryker's older brother sets foot onto the dance floor, walking with so much grace. He pauses in front of Keelan and throws off his robe theatrically. The fans standing near him battle for who gets to hold the robe.

"Is he going to dance?" Rina asks, her voice rising incredulously.

We get our answer as Rowan starts moving to the beat of the music with so much practiced skill that we're all taken aback.

"Excuse me. Where did he get those moves from?" I ask Ryker.

He's watching as his brother awes the crowd, and even Keelan looks stunned at the unexpected style the older Balinger has on the dance floor. A smile spreads slowly across Ryker's face as he watches his brother tear it up below.

"People can surprise you, I guess," he says, tearing his eyes from the scene below us and gazing back at our sleepy daughter.

"Well, isn't this a treat," says Rina, making her way back to the couch and retrieving her phone. "I'm genuinely surprised Mack even allows us to do these."

I grab some wine from the cooler in the corner and bring down a few glasses. "Builds unity if you ask me," I wink at her.

"I like it," Aunt Ginny says cheerfully, joining us for a glass.

"Uh-oh, mommy's busting out the wine glasses. You know what that means, don't you, Stella girl?" Stella yawns and closes her eyes in response. "That's right, Girl's night."

Ryker looks up at me. "I'll take her home." He grabs the diaper bag near the couch and bends to give me a kiss. “See you at home. Don't do anything I wouldn't do," he lifts a brow at me.

"Pfft, who me? Never." I bat my lashes back at him.

Rina and Aunt Ginny laugh, knowing I'll be doing exactly that.

"Bring her home in one piece, Rina," he says to my boss-turned-bestie.

"You got it," she says with the same two-finger salute the guys give her when she barks orders.

Ryker disappears, and I turn back to my girls.

"So..." I begin. "You and Keelan. Spill."

Aunt Ginny looks around, pretending to have no clue what we're discussing.

"No," says Rina.

"Ugh, I swear you and Ryker are cut from the same cloth. Give me something. Anything. Pleeease!" I beg her, holding her wine glass hostage until she concedes. And she always concedes.

"Fine," she says, and I hand over her glass.

She takes a giant gulp, holding a finger up for us to wait until she swallows. Aunt Ginny and I exchange quick glances.

Rina sighs, "I may have said yes to a date."

"What?" We both squeal.

"It's. Just. One. Date," Rina annunciates each word so we understand.

"Yeah, yeah," I wave her off. "And where are you going on this singular date?"

Aunt Ginny chuckles over the rim of her glass.

"Big Bend," she says like it's no big deal.

"Big Bend. As in the National Park? That's like a bazillion hours away?"

"It's not that far," Rina says almost convincingly.

I cough. "Liar."

She snorts and sips her wine.

"Sounds more like an epic road trip than one singular date," says Aunt Ginny.

Rina sets her glass down and reaches up to tighten her ponytail. "It's one date. We'll see how it goes. I'm not making any promises."

"And will you be sharing living quarters on this one date?" I probe.

"I...I don't...I mean, it's a busy holiday weekend so most hotels were..." she coughs. "You know, booked."

"Hmm. Interesting, wouldn’t you say, Aunt G?" I chug the remainder of my wine and Aunt Ginny sets her own glass down before she answers.

"Very. But let's not read too much into it. I'm sure they just both share a love for geology."

"And wildlife," I offer. "Out in the middle of nowhere. In one singular yurt. On one singular date."

Rina stands up, desperate to change the subject, "Okay, okay. That's enough of that. Are we going to dance or what?"

Aunt Ginny and I both laugh as we stand and follow her out the door to the dance party that's taking place below us. And as I close the door to the family room, I feel like this is right. Being here. With these people. In this place.

This is home.

The love doesn’t end here…

Another Houston Heatwave story is coming soon!

But if you love Brother’s best friend romances check out Baby for Brother’s Best Friend. A sexy standalone with a little nod to our Heatwave Hockey team.

Read it here!

So…hockey players, huh?

xoxo, Anne